Absolution
by The Wonk
Summary: This story is an exploration of human emotions. It's about guilt, pain, and tragedy. If you want to read something happy, avoid this story. If you don't care, give it a try.
1. Chapter 1 to 5

**Absolution**

**Chapter 1: It Began**

It began as it had always begun with Keitaro Urishma – with a misunderstanding.

It was a rough day of studying for Naru Narusegawa, first year ronin and Tokyo University inspiree. All she had thought about was taking a nice soak in the natural hot spring just behind the Hinata apartments. "I wonder how that pervert is going to try to peek on me today," she silently mused. Sliding the door that led to the hot spring open, Naru was shocked by the scene before her. Her higher brain functions arrested at the sight. Shinobou, the youngest resident at the Hinata apartments, was lying on the ground naked with Keitaro's mouth over hers. A voice in her mind shouted, "Keitaro is molesting Shinobou!"

A head-strong and impulsive girl, Naru instantly reached the least probable of explanations of what was happening. "You Pervert," she screamed. Naru's infamous rage sprung into action, letting loose a "Naru punch" that could liquefy concrete. Keitaro looked up and knew what was coming. "Shit, I don't have time for this," he thought. Keitaro Urishima was a gentle man. Though highly capable in the martial arts, he had never raised a finger against his tenants, which often gave the misleading perception that he was weak. Far from it. He simply did not want to hurt anyone, even if it meant more pain for himself. Normally, he would just take the hit from Naru and let things be. However, a life was on the line.

"No time," he whispered to himself.

Then in a blur, he disappeared from Naru's field of vision. Before she could register what was happening, Keitaro appeared next to her and slammed his fist into her gut. She collapsed onto the floor, losing herself to the pain. An instant later, he was kneeling down next to Shinobou.

"Oh God Shinobu, wake up!"

Motoko was in her room meditating, trying to resolve the emotional conflict raging within her. Ever since she could carry a blade, Motoko had lived her life in accordance with bushido - the way of the warrior. When other girls her own age were exploring romance and love, she focused only on honing her skills as a swordswoman. She believed romance was an indulgence of weak minds. She had a greater disdain for men, believing them only capable of guile and perversion. Her belief was unshakeable, that is until he came into her life. At first, she thought of him as just another typical male - weak and beyond redemption. Yet over time, he had shown her a compassion and kindness that she had never known before. "How could a vile creature show such qualities," she often wondered to herself. To compound her confusion, recently, she began to feel flushed and queesy when ever she was near him. Her first thought on her condition had been something she vehemently rejected after it had popped into her mind - she was in love.

"Motoko Aoyamma could not possibly in love with a weakling male," she desperately tried to convince herself, but failing to do so adequately. In truth, she wanted to be near him, but she fought this feeling with all her might. She was a proud warrior, not some silly school girl with a crush. Her conflicting emotions bubbled to the surface as she slammed her fist into the ground, her composure lost. It was then she heard Naru screaming from the hot springs.

She leapt into action, carrying with the sword that Keitaro had given her – the Hina blade. He had given his family's heirloom to her and with it, her second chance at regaining her happiness. He did so without hesitation. Her pulse quickened remembering that rainy night when she had poured out her fears and self-doubts to him. Her anger grew at the memory of her own weakness. As she neared the patio, she knew that whatever affront that the manager had committed, it would not justify her up-coming action, but such doubts were quickly repressed by an ever greater urge to free herself from her confusion. She was going to attack him, as she had done countless times before for his past transgressions. She needed to purge these "useless emotions," and nothing was as effective as dispensing her own sense of justice on the very source of her torment.

"Urishima," she declared with an authoritative voice.

Like Naru before her, Motoko was shocked by what she was seeing. Naru was lying naked on the ground unconscious, her towel blown off by the force of Keitaro's punch. So was Shinobu in a similiar state of undress. Keitaro, his back to Motoko, was hovering above Shinobu, touching her chest – her naked chest!

Motoko's trance was broken when Keitaro abruptly knelt down and placed his mouth over Shinobu's. A blind rage took hold of her, her blade raised. Her inner voice raged, "how could I ever love such a loathesome creature who would harm and molest two innocent girls!"

He had felt her presence the moment she entered the patio area. His muscles tensed from the rising anxiety he was experiencing. He knew that Motoko would misinterpret the siuation like Naru had and attack him. Seeing the blue in Shinobu's cheeks, he also knew that he had little time. Motoko drew in a sharp breath, preparing to launch a devastating ki attack, but from nowhere, a wash bucket had collided with her chin, knocking her onto the ground. Keitaro, feeling the attack coming, took the second between chest compressions to throw the nearby bucket at her with uncanny accuracy, hoping to buy him some more time. The blow would have knocked out any normal person, but Motoko was a trained warrior. She had suffered harsher blows from her sister. Her fury reached new heights at the man before her. Feelings of disgust for not being able to dodge a bucket thrown by a weakling mixed with the earlier feeling of betryal began to cloud the normally sound mind of Motoko Aoyamma. It was in that moment, when Keitaro reached down to give Shinobu his breath, did she snapped. He felt Motoko's movement, but he had to help Shinobu - no matter the cost. "Dammit, not now, can't you see that she's hurt," Keitaro said with clenched teeth. Motoko could not hear him over the roar of her own heart beats. She charged him, but in her haste, did not pay any attention to the slick patio surface. She lost her footing and lunged forward. He felt the cold steel pierced his lung from behind. He winced as the blade, now protruding from his chest, grew longer and longer as it was driven further into his body. He could taste the mixture of blood and bile rising into his throat.

"No time," his mind screamed.

With fierce determination, he lunged backwards, forcing Motoko to step back, while the entire blade of her sword was forced through his body. Motoko's mind was too lost in her emotions to hear the sickening sound of flesh being pierced. She had given herself to her bloodlust, and all that was in her mind was a single thought: "Must strike him down."

As the distance between the two closed, Keitaro reached down and grabbed for her lower region. The sudden touch made Motoko squeel like a school girl. The sensation also made her tighten her grip on her sword, something Keitaro was hoping for.

Caught up in the confusion, Motoko barely noticed that Keitaro had readjusted his weight. In less than a moment, he propelled himself forward as Motoko was stumbling backwards. The sword was pulled out of him by the sheer force of his momentum – blood spurting from his wounds.

She felt the warm droplets hit her face, several managed to land on her lips – the taste of blood releasing her primal instincts. Her anger erupted. "Die you perverted male!"She slashed him again, his back arched from the pain. He could feel the cut on his back. It was deep. From the sound, the sword had hit bone – his shoulder blade. He cried out,"No time!" Seconds had elapsed since Motoko arrived on the scene, but it would end quickly. Keitaro, praying for forgiveness, launched a devastating spinning hook kick towards her chest. It connected, launching her towards the far wall. The impact exploded pain throughout her body. Before the blackness took her, Motoko thought she had heard someone asking: "please forgive me." Keitaro, broken and bleeding, returned to Shinobou. She hadn't been breathing for the past two minutes. He continued with the CPR, hoping his limited training was enough.

It was Sarah who had alerted Keitaro to Shinobu's accident. Minutes earlier, she had burst into his room, interrupting his studies. She was scared and crying, the words choked by her sobs. She was in her bathing suit. She was wet. Keitaro felt the fear bubbling in him. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it was bad. "Shinobu," was the only intelligible word he could decipher from the babbling young American.

Knowing that time was against him, Keitaro sprung into action, heading for the direction that Sarah had come from. He ran towards the hot springs, almost knocking over Kitsune on his way. Yelling back to her, "Kitsune, follow me, I think Shinobu's hurt!" She was right behind him when she stopped at the entrance. Su was holding Shinobu's head above the water, pleading, "Help her Keitaro, She's not breathing!"

Keitaro leapt into the hot spring, picked Shinobu up into his arms, and launched out of the water with incredible speed. He laid her out on the smooth stone patio and checked her pulse – nothing. He fought the panic trying to break free from his heart. Looking to Kitsune, he spoke with a voice booming with conviction but not overwrought with emotion, "Kitsune, call the ambulance and take Su and Sarah with you. Then call Haruka, GO!"

Su and Sarah was about to protest, but one look into his eyes and the girls knew that it was better to follow his orders – he had given them orders and they weren't about to disobey.

The moment they left, Keitaro returned his attention to the girl before him. At age 15, Shinobu looked more like a 10 year old, with her innocent features and underdeveloped body. She was a kindness and goodness that Keitaro treasured. She was turning blue. She was dying.

"No, dammit, you can't die Shinobu!" He began to administer CPR. Time passed excruciatingly slow for Keitaro. "Where's the damn ambulance," he thought. Suddenly, he heard a gasp behind him.

It was Naru.

Naru's eyes began to flutter open. Her body broke out into a series of aches and pain. "What hit me," she muttered to herself. She heard a wet coughing sound a few feet to her left. She opened her eyes and found Shinobu's body shuttering, wheezing for air. Her eyes widen when she saw Keitaro draping over her after turning Shinobu on her side. The memory of what had just transpired flashed through her mind, the anger rising at an exponential rate.

It was the blood that killed her rage. "Where did all this blood come from," Naru thought. She tried to speak, but found that her body was not following her commands as of yet. Suddenly, her cognitive functioning spurred into action, piecing together the fragmented memories into one coherent thought.

"Shinobou was unconscious, wet, near the hot spring. Keitaro's mouth was covering hers, not kissing her. He was pounding on her chest, not fondling her breasts. Did she drown? Was he saving her? Oh, god, what have I done," panicked Naru.

"URISHIMA," an ugly growl could be heard.

Naru's eyes widen with fear. She knew that voice. "Oh no, Motoko, don't, please don't," Naru screamed, but her vocal chords remained silent. She saw Motoko standing up from the floor a few feet away, her sword clearly in hand.

Keitaro tried to speak, but exhaustion kept his tongue silent. He tried to stand. "Keep her from Shinobu," his mind uttered. The loss of blood had taken its toll. No longer able to maintain his balance, Keitaro tumbled forward toward Motoko.

"Lecherous Male, is there no end to your pervasion!" Summoning her full strength, she was about to unleash a massive Ki attack, when Shinobu choked up more water and whimpered a single word, "sempai."

In a moment, Motoko's mind arrived at the same conclusion that Naru reached just a few seconds earlier– it was too late.

Motoko's was able to hold back the ki that fueled her technique, but the physical thrust of her blade had already been executed. Without the Ki to push him backwards, Keitaro stumbled onto the blade, piercing his chest with a sickening sound. He screamed for what seemed like an eternity to Motoko, before the pain and loss of blood was too much to bear for him. He collapsed onto the floor, falling onto his side.

Motoko stood there motionless, seeing the blood spurt into the air in terrible slow motion.

"What have I done?"

**Chapter 2: Then you died**

She was meditating just a few minutes ago. Now, her immaculate white gi was covered in blood – blood she had spilt.

Keitaro was laying on the ground, curled up in a fetal position – the Hina blade struck through him. Blood pooled around him.

Motoko knelt beside him, and raised the dying man into her arms, her tears streaming down in torrents. "Please don't die Keitaro, please I'll do anything, just don't die," she cried. She held him tightly, hoping that she could keep his life from floating away.

"You can't die, Keitaro. You just can't, you have to live here…with us…with me…"she stammered, her tears raining down on him.

The pain had subsided. He just felt tired – an exhaustion that he had never felt before – as if he was dying. No, he couldn't be dying. He still had a promise to keep. His body was growing numb. "Maybe I could rest, just a little," he thought.

His face, it was wet. Is it raining? He looked up and saw a vision of beauty starring back at him. At first, he thought it was an angel. "How nice," he thought, "angels seeing me off to heaven. Wait - no…it's not an angel…its Motoko." The memories rushed him all at once. The attack, the blood, Shinobu!

He wanted to speak, but only coughed up blood. The sight of which had struck Motoko's heart with the force of sledgehammer. He made another attempt of speaking, but was only able to throw out a single word: "Shinobu?"

By this time, Motoko was wailing almost hysterically, rocking him back and forth in her arms. Snapping out of her own spiraling descent into madness, she heard Keitaro speak. "Shinobu?" he asked again.

His words had calmed her some, givin her the strenght to speak, "Yes, Shinobu's okay, you saved her, Keitaro." Motoko said through her tears.

After coughing up the rest of the blood that had filled his airway, he replied in a slow and tortured whisper, "Good…don't…cry…Mot – oko."

Her eyes clenched shut, too ashamed of looking at the man that she had hurt. She wanted to tell him that it was all her fault and that she was so stupid, but her vocal chords clamped shut and the only sound she could make was a pained whimper.

His breathing was shallow at this point. The words burned in his throat, but he forced them out.

"Always…for-give…you…Motoko…chan."

Her eyes sprung open, meeting his gaze. The color had drained away from his face, leaving behind only a ghastly paleness that accentuated the deep brown of his eyes. His breathing had deteriorated into spasms.

He felt the coldness grip him, but he could not tear himself from the sad beauty he saw above him. He slowly reached for her cheeks, but faltered. Motoko, seeing his hand, caught it and held it against her cheek before it could fall.

He smiled. "Tell Naru…love…her."

Motoko's heart shattered at those words. She wanted to break down and die at this moment, but seeing Keitaro struggling to speak – to live – she kept her composure, but just barely.

His breathing slowed to a few pants. His fingers lost all strength. Staring into Motoko's eyes, he uttered a final word before the darkness took him: "beautiful."

He was gone.

The sun was finally setting over the Hinata apartments. The sound of ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance, but the pedestrians on the sidewalks kept walking without notice. Then suddenly, above the din, came a sound that struck at the very souls of the people who could hear it. It was the sound of someone wailing, a wretched cry filled with such suffering that it filled the very air with an oppressive weight. The witnesses still tell the story of that day. One man would tell his son that it was the day he could never forget, it was the day he thought he heard an angel cry.

**Chapter 3:Wake up  
**

Incoherent thoughts and sensations ran through his mind as he regained some semblance of consciousness. Memories could not be distinguished from sensations. Thoughts melded into feelings. The chaos produced panic, a blanket panic that shook him to his core.

Off in the distance, he saw a light. Dim at first, but as the slit grew so did the intensity, until the light became so intense, it blinded all other sensation.

The images were blurred, more like bleeding colors running into each other. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and the images sharpened until he could see shapes. The first thing he saw was the white sheets, then the clock hanging on the far wall. It read 5 o'clock.

His body felt like a prison and a deep urge billowed out from him to move. His arms began to stir but floundered. He was about to lift himself from the bed that he was lying on when he heard the sound of plates crashing.

He turned his head to the source of the noise and was surprised to see a beautiful woman, dressed in a yellow sundress, with flowing raven black hair staring back at him. Only one word escaped her lips.

"Keitaro."

Disoriented, confused, Keitaro struggled to decipher what was happening to him. He asked,

"Where am I?"

The woman was too overwhelmed with emotions to answer his question. All she could say in response was "Keitaro."

She spoke with such earnest and love that Keitaro's heart quivered. She approached him, slowly at first, but when it became apparent that it wasn't a dream – that he really was awake, she rushed to him, embracing him. The tears flowed freely, cascading down her face.

Keitaro had never experienced such tenderness from a woman before, especially from someone so beautiful. Not wanting to interrupt the wonderful feelings he was experiencing, but curiosity got the better of him. He tried to speak, but found his throat terribly parched. He swallowed to coax some salivia down to lubricate the words out. Eventually, he was able to whisper, "Excuse me ma'am, but who are you, and where am I?"

The beautiful woman looked up from her embrace, tears still streaking down her cheeks. Her eyes were so filled with pain at his words that he flinched. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but his questions seemed innocent enough.

"It's me Keitaro, Motoko."

He flinched at the name. Images of a sword slashing at him, blood splattering against the floor flooded his mind. Pain shot out from his back and chest. His eyes widened with fear.

Motoko saw the fear in his face. Her tears came down in greater waves, and she clutched him tightly, burying her face into his chest. She began sobbing uncontrollably. The sudden movement frightened Keitaro even more, but his fear quickly dissipated when he felt the wetness across his chest. Her tears were bleeding through his shirt.

"Please don't be afraid of me Keitaro," she stammered out, trying to choke back her sobs but failing miserably.

The words struck him hard. This was not the Motoko he knew.

Out of instinct, Keitaro's arms wrapped around the weeping young woman, bringing her closer to him. She responded by embracing him tighter than before, clinging onto him like a newborn.

She continued to weep in his arms for nearly an hour. He held her close and strummed her long dark hair with his free hand. He didn't know why Motoko was so sad, but as her friend and manager, he was going to be there for her.

When the weeping stopped, the two stayed in their positions. A few excruciating minutes went by before Motoko began to speak with her head still buried in his chest.

She was telling him of all that had gone on since he was in a coma.

Motoko and the rest of the Hinata residents followed him to the ambulance. When they arrived, Haruka, who was in the ambulance with him, told them that the doctors had pronounced him dead on arrival. Something happened with Motoko, but he couldn't make out the muffled words. Later, Motoko was hospitalized. She didn't see what happened, but was told about it later. A nurse had ran up to Haruka and told her that Keitaro was alive. His heart suddenly started to beat again. The doctors couldn't explain it – his heart had stopped. His pupils were dilated. He should have been dead. Haruka would later say that she should have known: "He's immortal you know."

Unfortunately, his wounds were grave and the lack of oxygen to his brain had taken its toll. He was in a coma and most likely suffered severe brain damage. None of the doctors expected him to wake up, but he pulled off one miracle – why not another? That was five years ago.

"Five years." Keitaro couldn't believe it. He's been asleep for five years. What happened to his family, to his friends, what happened to Naru? She looked up and saw the bewildered expression on his face.

"A lot of things have changed Keitaro…" she began to say but was interrupted by his single question.

"Where's Naru?"

Motoko turned away from his penetrating gaze, unable to answer him. She then reburied her face back into his chest, and began to weep once more.

His anger rose but was quickly suppressed. He wanted answers, but Motoko was in pain. No, he could wait until she was ready. Such was a man like Keitaro.

**Chapter 4: In America **

They had fallen asleep in each others arms. When Motoko woke up, she found herself in the arms of the man she loved, the man she had harmed so many years ago. .

"It wasn't a dream," she said to herself quietly, "He's really awake."

Taking care not to wake him, Motoko left his embrace and went to get the doctor. As she hung up the phone, she felt the urge to make another phone call - this one to a certain young girl in Japan.

Then an image of Haruka appeared in her mind, reminding her of all that had transpired in the past five years. Hesitant at first, Motoko finally set the phone down and walked away to await the doctor. "Not yet," she thought to herself.

Keitaro awoke just in time to see a young lady dressed in a white coat walk into the room followed by Motoko. He was surprised to see that lady in question was white. He spoke, but she looked at him blankly. She replied back, but in English.

"She's obviously a doctor, but why is she speaking English," wondered Keitaro.

Motoko saw the confused expression in his face.

"Keitaro, I do not wish to frighten you, but we are not in Japan. We're in America and this is Doctor Justine Smith. She has been treating you with a special medicine not available in Japan. That's why we're here."

Keitaro's mind lurched. He looked at her again, asking, "America?"

"Keitaro, I'll answer all your questions, but first let the doctor examine you to make sure you are healthy."

After a few seconds of contemplation, he nodded his head, saying, "hai."

The doctor finished her examination and told them both that Keitaro would be fine. The doctor still couldn't believe how resilient his body was. It had shown no sign of atrophy from his long dormancy. Motoko could only reply, "He's always been unique that way." After arraning an office appointment for later next week, Justine packed up her equipment and made ready to leave.

After escorting the doctor out, Motoko knew what she had to do next. She would not lie to him. She would tell him the truth of why they were in America. It was hard for her. The truth would hurt him.

In her dreams, she had hoped to be with him forever, but she knew that the truth would rob her of her dreams. It would take him from her. Her sin was too great for even Keitaro to forgive.

She was prepared to die for him, but not before he was strong enough to leave and reclaim the life that she had taken from him. Her tanto was close at hand, waiting for that day to arrive.

**Chapter 5: A walk in park  
**

"Did the doctor leave?"

Motoko looked back at the voice from behind. It was Keitaro. He was dressed in a simple outfit that she had laid out for him before the doctor had arrived.

"Keitaro, the doctor said you shouldn't be moving around for another day or so, get back to bed," she replied.

"Don't worry, I feel fine. In fact, I don't think I ever want to lie down again. Hey, I know, let's go out for a walk. I get to stretch my legs and you can tell me what's been going on for the past five years."

Motoko was going to refuse him, but looking into his dark brown eyes tore through her conviction as if it was rice paper.

"Okay, but only for an hour, and only around the block. You're still weak."

"Yes, Ma'am," he gingerly replied.

Keitaro looked at the house he was staying in. It was a simple one floor building, much smaller than the Hinata apartments. It had a small courtyard, not much bigger than the hot spring area. He noticed that the house was situated in a small suburban area. They were some kids playing a few houses down and a large SUV had just passed them by.

"So where in America are we?"

"A small town called Piscataway, it's in New Jersey," she replied.

"New Jersey, where's that?"

"It's next to New York City," she replied. Anticipating his next question, Motoko further added, "We're here because there's a medical university nearby that had the treatment you needed to get better."

"I see," he replied. "Well, tell me more. Fill me in. Where's everybody?"

She remained silent for a few moments, trying to organize her thoughts into a cohesive stream. Then suddenly, she reached for his hand and held it firmly. Keitaro was puzzled by her actions, but after holding her in his arms for so long, he was no longer panicked by her touch.

"There's a park nearby. Let's go there and I'll tell you everything," she said.

Keitaro just nodded his head. The walk was pleasant. The park was only a few blocks away. It was larger than the one he played in as a child, but not as clean. The chains on the swing set were already rusting and crab grass had made its home in the cracks in the sidewalk that surrounded the play area. They stopped and sat on a bench overlooking a sand box. For a moment, he remembered the time Naru had found him in a similar sand box back in Japan. It was a good memory.

Several minutes had passed in silence since Keitaro and Motoko sat down. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but the vision of Motoko weeping in his arms made him wary of asking them.

Still, it was surprisingly pleasant to sit next to his friend on such a peaceful day, even if he was thousands of miles from his home – thousands of miles from Naru.

Suddenly, he felt something in his hand, it was warm and soft. He glanced down and saw to that Motoko was holding his hand. His first instinct was to panic, but that feeling quickly dissipated as he remembered the night before. He simply brushed his thumb over her fingers and let it be.

Motoko closed her eyes in response and let out a gentle sigh. She was living her dream – her and Keitaro, sitting peacefully together. "But I hurt him, wronged him, and took his happiness from him, I don't deserve to be happy," she thought. Her anxiety began to rise. Keitaro recognized the tension in her immediately.

Trying to deflate the situation, Keitaro broke the silence: "I remember playing in a sand box just like that one back in Hinata."

Motoko snapped out of her spiraling self-condemnation and turned her head towards him. Her eyes began to tear up, and quickly she cast her eyes back to the ground, saying barely above a whisper, "with Naru."

Keitaro's eyes widen with the comment. He then saw that his seemingly innocent remark had the opposite affect then intended. Motoko's hair, draping over her face, had masked her pained expression, but the barren concrete below showed splotches of wetness where her tears had landed.

He hated to see Motoko crying. It tore through his heart like a serrated dagger. He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soon, the tears abated, and she looked up at him, trying to summon the strength to tell him what he wanted to know, to tell him about Naru.

"What's happening," Motoko asked herself. Keitaro was embracing her. His head buried in the crook of her neck, and he whispered, "I'll always be here for you Motoko, I promise." He then released her and looked into her eyes, hoping that she would let go of her pain.

"Tell me Motoko, what happened to…"

These were the words she dreaded to hear. He was going to ask about Naru. She could not stand to put the man she loved in any more pain, but she also could not deny him the truth. She owed him that much. Marshalling what little strength that she had left, she was about to tell him everything when his final word shattered her resolve.

"…you."

At first, Motoko did not know what Keitaro was asking of her. Then she felt his thumb brushing against her palm, turning it over so he could confirm what he thought he had saw the night before. She looked down and found that his other hand had started to gently probe the scar on her wrist. She tried pulling her hand away, but Keitaro would not release her. "No, please don't," Motoko whimpered, but he would not stop.

He slowly lifted up her sleeve and gasped at what he saw. Her once flawless porcelain skin was marred with a series of scars of varying sizes and patterns. One in particular was from a deep gash across her vein – a potentially lethal wound.

His fingers were light at first, touching gently as if he feared of reopening wounds that have been healed years ago. He was transfixed by what he saw. He could almost feel the pain buried in each of the scars littering her arm. Slowly, his fingers gave way to his palms, as he gently massaged her forearm, trying to erase the pain he saw etched into her flesh.

The tears started to collect along his clenched eyes. He did not have the strength to look up to see her face. With his voice cracking, he asked, "Was it because of me?"

Something in his voice renewed her resolve. "He's blaming himself," a voice shot through her mind. This kind man was blaming himself for her decisions. Her back stiffen and the cool demeanor of her youth had returned to her face. She gently, but firmly reached for Keitaro's chin, and raised his head up until they were eye level.

She saw a single tear break free on his face. Instinctively, she reached for it and wiped it away before it passed his lips. She spoke with a calm even tone.

"The night you were in the hospital. They said you had died. I felt like I had died as well. When the other residents were huddled together, grieving. I walked away. No one noticed. I don't blame them. They hated me at that point for what I had done to you. I hated myself even more. So I went to the bathroom and just sat in the stall. I took out my tanto and next thing I knew, I felt the numbness. Haruka was the one who discovered me. She went to the bathroom to gather some tissues for everyone. She saw the blood collecting on the floor. I don't remember much after that, but when I came to, I was in the ICU with my arms restrained. My sister was there. She had told me that you were alive. I was glad, but the pain in my heart was still there. I had hurt you and I could never forgive myself for that."

Pausing to collect herself, she took both his hands into her own, and looked away into the distance. With the same even tone, she continued.

"After I was released from the hospital, I became quite despondent. I did not care if I lived or died. I don't know why the police did not arrest me. I've been told that Haruka intervened. I never asked how she did it or why, and she never cared to explain herself. I went back home to Kyoto under my sister's care. Those were slow and terrible days for me. I refused to eat or leave my room. I rarely slept. I began to cut myself soon after I arrived. I just wanted to feel pain. I was a silly girl with a notion that some justice would be served by self-mutilation. My sister discovered the wounds and had me kept under constant watch. I tried several times to kill myself, but my sister would always be there to stop me."

Keitaro sat there, listening to her story. He could not believe what he was hearing. "Motoko, trying to commit suicide, never," he thought. But the proof was in front of him, forever carved into her flesh. He gazed upon her face, and saw the pain in her expression, masked behind a calm veneer. He wanted to stop her from reliving her past and just hold her in his arms until all the hurt in her soul was gone. More than anything, he wanted to take away her painful memories.

"My sister, in an act of desperation, contacted Haruka and asked her for her help. She came to Kyoto. I remember when she first entered my room. I had not noticed her until she spoke to the student watching over me. She then walked over to me and before I knew it, I was sprawled on the floor. She had struck me across the face with the back of her fist. I can still feel the impact to this day. Then she said something to me. Keitaro would want you to live, so live for him – you selfish bitch. Then she walked out and left Kyoto. I just laid there on the floor, mulling over her words. I knew that you had survived, but I did not want to live because I was the one who had harmed you."

It was at this moment, her mask began to crack. Tears threaten to break free from her eyes. She felt the tanto at her breast, where it was kept at all times. She so desperately wanted to unsheathe the blade and strike herself down with it, but she fought the urge with all her might. "No," she screamed in her mind, "not yet."

She then turned to him, here eyes filled with determination and conviction. She spoke again, "I then realized the truth behind Haruka's words. What happened to me was my decision – a decision I made out of my own selfish desires. So please Keitaro, don't blame yourself for my stupidity and selfishness. I also realized that my life was no longer mine to throw away. My body was no longer mine to abuse. My life and body are yours Keitaro. I vowed that day that I would never leave your side, that I would serve you until my death. I give myself to you freely. I accept any punishment you see fit. This is my atonement for the sins I committed against you – my vow to keep."

Keitaro was struck dumb by her declaration. "What does she mean life and body?" he thought to himself. Could she possibly mean…no, stop it you pervert, get a hold of yourself…she's serious. His mind attempted to absorb her words, but it was floundering. His obtuse and narrow-minded mentality protected him from the overwhelming implications of his predicament, but it also prevented him from coping with her blatant and direct confession.

It was her eyes that gave him his resolve. She had meant every word. This was no time for the blame game. He needed to say something to help his friend. The words came to him from deep within. Breathing deep and holding it in, he paused to collect himself. He then released his breath and spoke to her with a warmth and kindness that reverberated throughout her body.

He asked, "Motoko, I can think of nothing worst than you not being here with me."

She looked at him blankly for a moment, no knowing what to say. .

He continued after seeing her confusion. "I consider you my friend Motoko – no, I consider you more than a friend - you're like family to me. So believe me when I tell you this. I don't want you as a servant in any way. There is no debt to be paid or sins to be forgiven. I want you to be my friend and because of that, I want you to be happy Motoko. Your happiness is my happiness, do you understand that?"

The converse of his statement would be that her pain would be his pain. Suicide or self-mutilation would harm him. She knew what he meant, but she felt too unworthy of such compassion. She broke from his gaze, but he brought her back with his gentle hand.

"Your happiness is my happiness," he reiterated.

She smiled at him, a genuine happiness emanated from her expression. She could not hold onto her self-loathing in the face of such kindness.

They sat there, watching the sun descend below the tree line. Neither spoke, but both enjoyed the peaceful setting.

Hating to break the calm, Keitaro forced himself to ask the question that was second on his mind: "Motoko, where's your sword?"

Fearing that the young sword maiden would break down again, Keitaro shored up his emotional defenses, but she simply glanced down for a second before looking into his eyes.

She replied, "I gave up the sword that day. I haven't touched one since, and no Keitaro, I do not wish to ever hold a sword again."

He could not grasp what she had just told him. Being in a five year coma affected him, but it did not devastate him. Not knowing where Naru was gnawed at him, but he endured. Yet, hearing that Motoko had given up her sword was beyond him.

She saw his facial expression and knew what he was thinking.

"My only regret Keitaro was that I did not abandon it sooner," she said with an honesty that he could not deny.

Contemplating his next words carefully, he said, "I know that once you love something as much as I know you loved your art, it's hard to give up, even if you have the most pressing of reasons, but I want you to know Motoko that I'll support whatever decision that makes you happy. If you have any regrets, then you and me, we could do something about it, together."

Saying his peace, he returned his gaze to the setting sun. His hand was still holding onto hers. Motoko looked at him, processing the words that he had just said. She had no intention of picking up the sword; she had made a promise. Still, she could not deny that sometimes, she felt the emptiness in her without her sword at her side.

"No more sad thoughts Motoko, I'm with Keitaro now," she silently chided herself.

She turned her attention towards the sun, where it was disappearing over the tree line. For the first time in five years, Motoko felt something kindle within her that she had thought was long dead – hope.


	2. Chapter 6 to 7

**Chapter 6: Three years ago**

The Hinata Tea shop was doing good business, much to Haruka's amazement. When she first took over the shop, her only aim was to break even. Anything more would distract her from living the simple life she had longed for. She intended to live her life on her terms and not for the sake of profit.

Still, she made a great cup of tea and had a large selection of exotic brews that drew a loyal base of customers. Her business had grown; a fact that sometimes annoyed the not-so-young woman, because it meant hiring on extra staff. Yes, life had grown a bit complicated for Haruka.

Spying her employee across the counter, Haruka yelled, "Goddamn it, Sakura, how many times do I have to tell you, wipe down the tables when the customer leaves! Do you think the next won't care about sitting at a dirty table?" Sakura turned around, her small frame visibly shaken by the rebuke, and replied with a mousy voice, "Sorry Haruka, I'll get right on it."

Haruka turned her face away from the young college student, not wanting her to see the furrow in her brow. Haruka knew her outburst was uncalled for, but she would never openly admit to her own failing. Calming herself down, she returned her gaze on the young girl who was already cleaning the table. With a sigh, she walked to Sakura and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "you doing good work kid - don't sweat it. Watch the store for a minute; I'm taking a smoke break." Sakura nodded her head in reply.

The January morning was brisk in Hinata Springs, but Haruka never minded the cold – it suited her personality. She lit her cigarette, thinking of her nephew who was still in a coma in the Hinata apartments. After six months in the hospital, the doctors informed her that there was nothing more that they could do. He had been taken off life support, and only needed minimal equipment to feed him intravenously. His parents wanted him home, but Granny Hina had intervened. They needed all their love and attention directed toward Kanako, their adopted daughter. Kanako had become unhinged when she found out about her beloved brother's condition. She had gone to him, intending on caring for her brother, but when see saw Keitaro lying in bed broken, she was consumed by vengeance. She made a vow to kill the one responsible for her brother's fate – she had vowed to kill Motoko Aoyama.

It was Haruka and Granny Hina that intercepted her before she could enter the Shinmei School's property. Kanako had already devastated a contingent of Shinmei swordsmen sent to stop her from entering the grounds. The sight of the battle scene could be best described as carnage unleashed. Though no one had died, none of the Shinmei left that battle intact. Limbs were lost, bones were broken, and much blood had been split. Motoko saw the battle from her room. She sat there dispassionately at first, not knowing what she was seeing. She then heard yelling from the hallway, something about an Urishima seeking revenge. For a moment, joy seeped into the young Aoyama's heart. Death was coming for her so she hoped.

It was Haruka who delivered the near lethal blow that ended Kanako's rampage. The two had met at the gateway, marking the entrance to the grounds. Kanako yelled out three simple words to her aunt: "Move or die!"

It was Granny Hina who spoke out to her, "My child, I know that you are hurt, but do you not realize the terrible pain you will inflict upon Keitaro when he wakes up and finds his friend and aunt dead by the hands of his own sister."

Kanako's killing aura, raging like a terrible furnace, subsided for a few seconds, mulling over the wisdom of granny's words. Suddenly, the furnace rekindled and her fury grew in greater intensity from before. "He's never waking up and the bitch responsible is in there! She's dead," she screamed with a terror that had struck Haruka to her core. She blinked and in that moment, Kanako had disappeared.

"My God," she barely uttered before blocking the fierce round house kick to her head. Kanako, driven by her rage, had surpassed her previous fighting ability, finding new strength in her pain. Haruka's arm felt like it was about to fracture and crumble, but she had to fight the pain and end this quickly or lives would be lost.

Kanako, consumed by her rage, had intended on killing Haruka for getting in her way. She followed the round house kick with a sweep kick that momentarily unbalanced her aunt. It was at this moment, she made ready a vicious tiger claw to her throat when an image popped into her head. It was Keitaro, but not the gentle man who always had a smile for her. Keitaro was frowning, frowning at her. Haruka, not knowing why Kanako had paused, didn't sit around to find out. She leapt over her, striking her at the base of the neck with enough force to stun, but not to kill. As Haruka landed, Kanako crumbled to the ground, her last thought being of her brother and his frown.

That was a year and a half ago. Kanako had moved back in with her parents. She wanted to be with her brother, but she was too ashamed of what she had done to do so. She forced herself to visit him once a month, staying in his room for a night, and leave the next morning, all the while, praying that her brother would forgive her for what she had done. In all this time, Kanako never spoke to Haruka. They would on occasion run in to each other, but only shared a head nod to one another, which was why it surprised Haruka to receive a phone call from her this morning.

"Hello Aunt Haruka," said the voice on the other end of the line. "Hello, Kanako," Haruka replied, "it's been awhile." There was no reply, only silence.

After an uncomfortable minute, Haruka was about to speak, when Kanako spoke out, "that bitch came to see me today."

Haruka was shocked to say the least. She knew immediately who Kanako was talking about, but why had Motoko visited her of all people? Was she trying to fulfill a death wish? "Please, tell me everything Kanako," Haruka asked.

**Chapter 7: A peace offering**

Kanako was working the counter in the family constabulary this morning. She had always hated sweets, even the smell offended her, but she wanted to help out her parents out – a way of atoning for her brother. Today, started out like any other day. Customers came and went, buying sweets or just having a chat with the mysterious girl with the strange single cow lick. She was reticent at first, but after working in the store for over a year, Kanako had changed. A once forlorn and withdrawn figure, she had slowly begun to open up. She no longer wore her customary black gothic attire, but found herself wearing clothes her brother seemed fond of on girls. Today, she decided on an ordinary white blouse with a navy blue woolen skirt.

She also adopted a more pleasant demeanor, engaging her customers with a smile and a kind word every now and again. She even told a customer that she was particularly fond of, a grandfather who had lost his son in a tragic car accident, her dream of one day running the family inn with her older brother. She still carried the guilt inside, but life was starting to progress for Kanako Urishima, then as if everything screeched to a grinding halt, she walked in.

A tall young girl with long flowing raven black hair had entered the store. She was wearing a large winter coat, jeans, and a red sweater. Kanako was still arranging some of the sweet rice buns in the display case when she noticed someone walking to the counter. She could see jeans, but it wasn't until she rose up from her kneeling position did she see her face. In an instant, Kanako launched over the counter, barreling towards the girl. It was the face that haunted her nightmares, the one responsibility for it all – the face of Motoko Aoyama.

"How dare you come here bitch," Kanako growled with her hands around the young girl's neck. Motoko made no attempt to defend herself - offered no resistance. She simply stared into Kanako's eyes with a deep and unyielding gaze. Enraged over the girl's behavior, Kanako released one hand and slapped her with all her might.

Motoko let out a small grunt, but returned her gaze back into Kanako's eyes, the right side of her face was a deep red, and blood began to trickle from her mouth. No other words were spoken between the two, only Kanako's iron grip tightening around her throat.

Motoko's eyes glazed over. The life choked out of her. She lay there dead with Kanako on top of her. This was the image playing in Kanako's mind over and over again. It was a scene she had fantasized countless of times. The feel of Motoko's life draining from her body was almost orgasmic for the young Urishima. It was the feel of something caressing against her cheek that broke her from her trance.

It was Motoko. She was wiping away a tear that was sliding down her face. It was the same tear running down Motoko's face, a tear shed for the pain of losing someone they both loved. For a moment, Kanako looked into Motoko's eyes and saw within them the same emotions tormenting her: shame, sorrow, regret, and a longing for an end to this wretched life without Keitaro.

Her grip loosened, causing Motoko to instinctively gasp for air. She would accept death today, if it was Kanako's decision, but she had a mission to keep and the first step was to make amends with his sister.

Motoko, her voice hoarse from the attempted strangulation, spoke, "I have come here to ask for your permission on something of grave importance."

Kanako did not respond at first. She was still sitting on top of Motoko, her hands were on the ground, supporting her weight. Her head was hovering above Motoko's, her hair obstructing the view of her face. Motoko said nothing more. She would wait until Kanako was ready to hear more. It was then she felt the tears splatter against her cheeks. Motoko opened her eyes just in time to see Kanako's body dropping on top of her. Motoko embraced her, cradling her on instinct. She felt Kanako's mouth chomping down on her exposed shoulder. Motoko clenched her teeth shut, trying to fight back the scream from the pain. She could tell by the force of the bite that Kanako had broken skin, but she didn't care. She deserved the pain. Motoko tighten her embrace, letting the young Urishima pour out her suffering. She then heard Kanako's muffled scream.

They lay there on the floor for several minutes with Kanako releasing the years of torment and anguish that she had been bottling up inside onto Motoko's unyielding body. By the time Kanako was able to stand, Motoko had endured physical pain that even the most harden of soldiers would not be able to endure.

Her right shoulder was swollen around the bite mark, blood soaking into her sweater. Her neck still bore the finger marks from Kanako's death grip. Her ribs were bruised from Kanako's embrace, and her back was littered with gouge marks.

There was blood on the floor. Motoko saw this and tried cleaning it up with her coat sleeve. Kanako stood and watched Motoko, the blood still dripping from her mouth. She then walked to the door, locked it, and turned the open sign around. Kanako walked back to where Motoko was, stood her up, and slapped one more time, but with less force than before. Motoko made no sign of disapproval. She simply took the blow with a casualness that angered Kanako.

Without a word, Kanako took her hand and guided her to the back of the store where the restroom was. She led her to the toilet where she forced Motoko to sit. She left the room for a minute and returned with a first aid kit and a rag.

"Take off your sweater," Kanako ordered in an emotionless voice. Motoko complied. She struggled to pull of her sweater, but she couldn't raise her right arm from the bite. Irritated beyond control, Kanako pulled out her pocket knife, grabbed the front of Motoko's sweater, and with a violent stroke, cut through the cloth straight down. Again, no emotional response from the former samurai girl, she simple took off the sweater as she would a jacket, thanks to Kanako's improvisation.

Kanako gasped at the near naked body of Motoko Aoyama. On her stomach were four lateral scars. From the look of things, they weren't recent cuts, but raised skin indicated that it had only just healed completely. Her forearms were worst. There were dozens of slashes made on them, some were long and drawn out, while others were short, but deep. She could tell a few were claw marks.

She had heard that Motoko attempted to take her life, but this was different. She didn't just see an attempt to extinguish life, but a self-loathing that demanded pain – a feeling she was all too familiar with. For a moment, Kanako allowed herself to feel pity for the girl sitting on the toilet beneath her. She understood Motoko's pain, her guilt.

Kanako took the rag in hand, soaked it under the tap, and gently wiped the blood off of Motoko's face and shoulder. She knew it stung, but Motoko made no attempt to grimace from the pain. She simply endured. Once the blood had been cleaned off of her body, Kanako took a piece of cotton and drenched it in alcohol. She then proceeded to disinfect the wounds – again with no response from Motoko. After bandaging her up, Kanako led her to the storage closet where she had stored her old wardrobe. She handed her an outfit and told her to get changed, while she cleaned up. Kanako returned to the bathroom and washed her face to clean off the blood and tears. She looked into the mirror, and spoke, "What am I suppose to do now dear brother?"

There was no response. Sighing, Kanako left the bathroom and found Motoko dressed in a black dress with a white vest on. Saying nothing, Kanako walked towards the back of the store and stopped in front of a stool and took a seat. Motoko soon followed.

"What do you want," Kanako asked.

Motoko knelt to the ground and bowed until her forehead was touching the ground – a symbol of complete resignation to another. She spoke in this position, "I have come to ask for your permission to serve your brother. I do not seek forgiveness for I know I will not receive it nor do I not deserve it, but I wish to make amends for my actions. I have abandon the way of the sword and stepped down as heir to the Shinmei School. I only wish to serve your family in any capacity you see fit. I offer my life and service."

Kanako wanted to take the stool that she was sitting on and use it to club her to death. She wanted Motoko to suffer and die in the most excruciating and dishonorable manner possible. She wanted to deny Motoko contrition. She wanted to tell Motoko to go fuck herself, but she would not act on her desires.

She would honor her brother – her means of atonement.

With a strained voice, she spoke, "Answer me this one question. Why did you hurt my brother all those times? He was so gentle and caring. He was so kind and wonderful, always giving it his all to help the people he cared about," she was shouting at this point, "he would do anything for you, and he'd give his own life for you Motoko Aoyama, so why did you hurt him?"

Motoko's head never left the floor. She sat there; eyes clenched shut, trying to keep the tears from flowing. She had no answer for her, nothing that could be deemed an adequate response.

"Well, answer me," Kanako demanded, rising to her feet.

"I never wanted to harm Keitaro," Motoko replied, struggling to keep her voice from breaking apart, "I just was not strong enough to admit my feelings for him. I attacked him out of my own weakness."

Kanako was too emotionally exhausted to yell back at the prostrate girl before her. It was a terrible explanation, but what other explanation could there have been to justify his abuse?

They sat there in silence for ten minutes, Motoko still bowing on the floor. Kanako fought back the tears, sniffling, "I will never forgive you, but my brother would. So go and do what you have to, you will get no resistance from me." Kanako with almost inhuman speed, grabbed Motoko by the collar, lifted her off the ground and slammed her against the wall, continued, "…but if you hurt him again, I will come for you. I will make you suffer before you die. I will violate you in every conceivable manner, make you experience every form of pain, I will break you. Do you understand me?"

Motoko made no reply save a single nod of her head, her eyes betraying no emotions.

"Good, now get the hell out. I never want to see you again."

Motoko left without uttering another word.

Kanako wanted nothing more to sleep, but she had one last chore to perform. She went to the phone and dialed a number that she hoped was still in service. A young girl picked up, "Mushi, Mushi, this is the Hinata Tea House, how can I help you?"

Kanako replied, "I need to speak to Haruka."


	3. Chapter 8 to 9

Author's Note: Hey, I just want to thank the people who took the time to read my story and left reviews. It's great to know that people are enjoying my story. By the way, I don't own the characters, stories, or anything else Akamatsu related.

**Chapter 8: A not so well-received visit**

She inhaled the smoke and held it in, letting the warm nicotine cloud bathe her lungs with its addictive touch. Her mind wandered in the playground of her memories. Keitaro was only five when he first met the promise girl. She remembered how elated he was when he told her of their promise together. Those were good times for Haruka Urishima. She was reliving a moment from her own childhood when she felt a presence that she had hoped would never come back to Hinata Springs.

"Greetings, Haruka-san," spoke a voice from behind. Haruka closed her eyes and slowly released the trapped smoke from her lungs. Her first instinct was to turn around and rip out Motoko's throat. Her second involved something far less tidy. Just then, an image flashed in her mind, Keitaro smiling and rubbing the back of his head. Giving the briefest of smiles, Haruka chuckled to herself, "Idiot, you would forgive her."

Without turning around, she said, "if you're looking for absolution, you're plumb out of luck, we ran out of priests a long time ago." Motoko knew that talking to Haruka would be difficult. No one, save Keitaro, had forgiven her for what she had done, least of all Haruka. She was the only one in the house who had the strength and skill, other than Keitaro, to stop her rampage that day – if she was only there to stop it. That thought kept Haruka up at nights, lingering in her own anguish: "If only I was there, Keitaro, I could have done something."

Motoko closed her eyes, summoning up her strength. "Haruka-san, I know I have wronged you all and I am forever ashamed for what I have done. I only wish to make amends. I wish to thank you for coming to Kyoto. You saved me from myself and I am eternally grateful…," Motoko was cut off.

"I don't want your damn gratitude," Haruka, turning swiftly around, let loose her rage, "I didn't do it for you, I did it for Keitaro!" Motoko was un-phased by her words. She stared into Haruka's eyes with the conviction of tempered steel and spoke once more, "…Haruka, I am alive because of Keitaro, not for myself. I know this and accept it without reservation."

Haruka stood there, trying to determine what to say next. She still wanted to vent out her frustrations, but seeing Motoko's swollen right eye reminded her that Kanako had felt the same. "So Motoko, what is it you want from me," asked Haruka.

Motoko knelt down and bowed her head to the ground, but before she could speak, Haruka went over to her and kicked her in the ribs. Motoko grimaced in pain, her ribs still sore from Kanako's vice like grip. "I don't want your formality, just come out and say it," Haruka spoke with irritation in her voice.

Motoko picked herself up, holding onto her sides. Haruka noticed this and grew concerned. She hadn't kicked her that hard, just enough to flop her onto her side. "It must have been Kanako," Haruka chided herself. Suddenly, Motoko was about to collapse, but Haruka caught her before she fell. Motoko looked to Haruka and whispered, "I am sorry," before passing out from the pain.

"Damn," Haruka muttered.

**Chapter 9: A request**

She awoke to the pain shooting from her sides. Motoko was no stranger to pain and slowly pushed it to the back of her mind. As the hurt subsided, she felt the warm plush feeling of a mattress beneath her body. She slowly opened her eyes and noticed that she was lying down on someone's bed in a room she didn't recognize. More amazing was that her clothes were gone save her undergarments.

"Your ribs aren't broken, but they're badly bruised," a voice spoke from the corner. It was Haruka. Motoko suddenly realized that her near nakedness revealed her hidden shame. Her arms reflexively attempted to cover her abdomen. "No need for that," Haruka added, "I've already seen them." She then walked over to her with a cup of warm tea and handed it over, which Motoko gladly accepted. "I see that Kanako worked you over some," pointing to the gouge marks on her back, "but these," she pointed to the scars, "well, I guess that's why your sister called me." Motoko blushed as she remembered the state she was in when Haruka came to her those many months ago, an indicator that some of her warrior pride remained intact.

"Get dressed," Haruka said as she tossed Motoko's clothes to her, "meet me downstairs when you're done." Then she was gone.

Five minutes later, Motoko climbed down the stairs that led to the back of the tea house. There she saw Haruka, sitting in front of a small circular table with a ceramic ash tray resting on top of it. Motoko walked over and sat in the chair opposite of her. She stared at the ashtray, examining its distorted contours. It looked like one of those ugly clay projects that school children were so fond of making. Haruka noticed her interest and said with a low voice, "Keitaro made it when he was ten. It was his birthday gift to me. He was so proud of it to. Personally, I thought it was the ugliest thing in all of creation, but to Keitaro, it was his most prized possession at the time. So I've been using it ever since," then Haruka did something that shook Motoko to her very core.

She chuckled. She had never seen such an outpouring of emotion from the head mistress of the Hinata apartments. She had always been reserve in her expressions, one of the many reasons why Motoko admired her. "When he first became manager, he saw the ashtray and said it was the ugliest thing in the world. I threw my fan at him, telling him it was not. He asked me where I got it from. That dolt, he made the stupid thing and didn't even remember it – that's Keitaro for you," Haruka explained.

Motoko stared at the ashtray, imagining his tiny hands molding the contours into its present shape. "He made this," she said under her breath. She reached out with a deliberateness that first disturbed Haruka. Motoko's fingertips made contact, and Haruka could see her shiver from the touch. She also noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. "My god," Haruka thought, "she's more messed up than I thought."

With emphasis, Haruka extinguished her cigarette in the ashtray, snapping Motoko out of her trance. "So what have you come to say," Haruka asked. Taking a minute to collect herself, Motoko looked into her eyes and stated with an emotionless tone, "I wish to come back to the Hinata apartments and take care of Keitaro."

Haruka was at a loss of words. She felt the urge to throttle the young Aoyama rise up like bile in her throat, but something in her mind told her to listen and think on what the girl was saying. Motoko took her silence as a nod to continue, "I realize that I am not welcome in your house anymore, and that I have no right to ask, but I would like to stay and help him the best I can. I have given up the sword and left the Shinmei School. I seek only to serve the Urishima family, to help Keitaro, and nothing more."

Haruka's fist slammed into the table, sending the ashtray straight up into the air. Motoko's quick reflexes kicked in and caught Keitaro's gift before it could shatter on the table surface.

Then there was silence.

Motoko slowly placed the ashtray back onto the table with all the delicacy she could muster. Haruka's face was contorted with an anger begging for release. The seconds that had passed seemed like hours to the young girl. A single bead of sweat ran silently down the side of her cheek, but for Haruka, it sounded like a nail dragging along a chalk board. She then leapt from her chair, over the table, and placed a well-aimed strike to her throat, crushing her larynx. Motoko was on the floor, clawing at her throat instinctively, trying to get air into her lungs. Haruka knelt down and started slamming her fists into Motoko's face – bones shattering.

"Haruka?"

"What," Haruka barked. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Sakura cowering in the corner, pleading, "please don't kill me," over and over again. "Damn it, I zoned out again, I swear it's a damn family curse," Haruka thought as she made her way to the frighten employee. "There, there, I'm sorry for the outburst there, you just caught me by surprise, that's all," Haruka said in the gentlest tone she could manage. Sakura looked up with utter disbelief in her eyes, she had never heard of her boss apologizing before, ever! "Yeah, yeah, I said I'm sorry, don't think it's gonna be a habit, so what is it Sakura," Haruka hissed. "We're out of the Oolong," Sakura spoke as she slowly backed out of the room, hoping that the lioness would not pounce and dismember her.

"I'll take care of it," said Haruka. She then turned to Motoko and spoke quietly, "leave Motoko, I don't want you here." Without looking back, Haruka left the room, leaving a broken Motoko behind.

Motoko's mind could barely maintain control. Her emotional scuffle with Kanako and Haruka had taken its toll. She laid her head on the table and silently wept out the raw emotions convulsing through her body.

Her cries were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"It's time to come home Motoko."

Motoko lifted her head and saw a figure walking out of the shadows. "Tsuroko," Motoko asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, my dear sister, I have come to take you home," the wraith-like figure responded.


	4. Chapter 10 to 13

**Chapter 10: Oaths unfulfilled**

A shiver ran up Haruka's spine as she left the backroom of her teashop. She strained her senses to detect any intruders in her place of business, but registered nothing. "What the hell was that feeling just now," Haruka mumbled to herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a war cry that silenced the chattering customers in front.

"I'm not leaving," Motoko screamed. Her impudence was met with a vicious blow from Tsuroko's scabbard, launching her out the back door. She landed hard against several trash bins, scattering their contents all across Haruka's backyard.

Motoko groaned from the pain. Her mind commanded her body to move, but to no avail. Her limbs were exhausted from the day's onslaught. Tsuroko approached with an eerie calm, masking the incredible destructive power lying just underneath the surface, begging for release. She looked down at her sister and lowered her eyes for a moment.

"What has become of you, my darling sister," Tsuroko thought, "What has happened to your warrior spirit?" Turning her head away, Tsuroko offered her hand to Motoko, but it was slapped away. The grave insult surprised Tsuroko. Her eyes met with Motoko's. Tsuroko's chest tightened as Motoko's fierce eyes met her gaze. She saw an indescribable rage in her eyes – it was the look of murder.

"You would look upon your own sister with such intent," asked Tsuroko. There was no reply from Motoko, only a grim determination that seemed to be festering in hate. Suddenly, the oppressive silence that hung in the air was torn down by a very angry Urishima.

"What the hell is going on back here," roared the lioness. Tsuroko turned to see Haruka, her right hand balled up into a fist that oozed with power. "I apologize for the mess Haruka-san, I meant no disrespect. I will make amends, but first I must bring my sister home, for she is not well," Tsuroko said calmly.

"I am not going anywhere Tsuroko," bellowed the raging Motoko. Tsuroko swung her blade into action, but it was blocked by a lead pipe that Motoko had conveniently found in the rubble. "My place is by Keitaro's side, that will never chane," Motoko said as she parried her attack.

Tsuroko would have none of it. "If it is a fight you want sister, than I shall oblige you," Tsuroko declared, before launching another attack. Her speed was beyond human, almost demonic, as she nearly landed a vertical slash across Motoko's chest. Haruka pulled out a cigarette placed it in her mouth. "Crap," she uttered as she lit her cancer stick.

Motoko managed to avoid the blow, but her foot work had suffered after two years of inactivity. Her stamina had suffered as well. Only a few seconds into the fight, Motoko was panting heavily, stumbling as fatigue began claiming her legs.

Motoko summoned the last reserve of her strength and launched her attack with amazing speed. She feinted to the right, shifted her momentum, and with a sudden spasm of her upper arms, flew her weapon straight for Tsuroko's heart.

It was effortlessly blocked and countered, sending Motoko crashing to the earth once more. Tsuroko's eyes began to blaze with fury. "Is this all that is left of you," Tsuroko spoke with rigid coldness. From seemingly out of nowhere, Motoko's blade appeared in Tsuroko's hand. She tossed the weapon to Motoko, and said, "If you wish to defeat me, than use your sword Motoko!"

"I will never pick up a sword again," Motoko replied, her voice hindered by her panting. Tsuroko, angered by her refusal, launched a ki attack that exploded Motoko against the Tea House wall. Motoko cried out in pain from the impact, before dropping to the floor with a sickening "thunk."

"You will pick up that sword and regain your honor, dear sister. You will not bury 13 generations worth of tradition and history over some school girl crush," Tsuroko shouted as two years of anguish and pain of seeing her sister in such a wretched state began to surface.

Tsuroko's words were sharper than her blade, cutting deep into Motoko's soul. A lone tear began to slide down her face, her stare into Tsuroko's eyes unflinching. In a barely audible voice, Motoko spoke, "My feelings for Keitaro are irrelevant Tsuroko, only my vow to him matters."

Tsuroko, stunned at Motoko's words, yelled back, "Your vow to him? Have you forgotten your vow to us – to your clan? You swore an oath Motoko to the Shinmei School. You swore to follow its teachings, to pass on its traditions to the generation to come. You have an oath to the school and to your family! Now pick up your sword!"

The elder swordswoman was near tears as she spoke those final words. She prayed silently to the gods that her sister would come to her senses, and hoped that somehow everything would work out in the end. Hope began to stir in Tsuroko's heart as she saw Motoko reached out for the sword, and drew out the blade.

Her hope would die that day.

Motoko held her blade, remembering the blood that had once been spilt by it. It had been a gift to her, a legacy passed down through generations of the Aoyama family. Her sword was once her most valued possession, but now served only as a reminder for her sins. She whispered to her blade, "I am sorry." Tsuroko heard her sister's confession, confused at its meaning. It was the change in Motoko's stance that alerted her to its true meaning. In one swift motion, she stabbed the earth with the blade, sinking it in halfway. With the remainder of her strength, she let out a tortured cry and snapped the blade in half.

Tsuroko's mind could not comprehend what she was seeing. "What have you done," Tsuroko asked, half pleading.

"What needed to be done, sister," Motoko replied with a distant voice, "Today, I renounce the Shinmei School and my family's legacy." Then without hesitation, Motoko plunged her broken sword deep into her right arm just above the elbow, slashing through the tendon.

"Motoko," both Haruka and Tsuroko cried out. Stifling the scream back into her throat, she simply smiled as the blood flowed down her arm. Tsuroko stood speechless, aghast at the events that had just unfolded. "I am sorry sister," Motoko said with a weary and hushed voice, "but there is no turning back for me now. I have destroyed my own abilities. My life with the sword is at an end."

It was Haruka who rushed to Motoko's side, carrying with her a first aid kit. "Goddamn it girl, what the hell were you thinking," Haruka asked as she examined the blade, which was still situated in Motoko's arm. "Crap, this is gonna hurt," she warned the young Aoyama. Motoko only nodded her head and then returned her gaze into Tsuroko's eyes. With a sharp yank, Haruka dislodged the sword from her arm, causing blood to spurt out, staining her once clean apron. The pain was immense, but Motoko's eyes did not flinch.

She wanted Tsuroko to understand the truth of her feelings, the depth of her commitment to her vow. Then she feinted from the blood loss.

Haruka yelled out to Sakura, who was standing at the backdoor, gaping at the unconscious Motoko, "Sakura, get my car, the keys are under the counter, Go!" Snapping out of her stupor, Sakura ran back into the tea house to fetch the keys. Haruka bandaged Motoko's wound, using the torn remnants of her apron. Sakura pulled up in Haruka's car a minute later, and helped her carry Motoko into the passenger's seat.

Haruka then leapt over the car with amazing grace and jumped into the driver's seat. She yelled to the still stunned woman, "Tsuroko, are you coming or not?" There was no response. "Dammit, I don't have time for this," Haruka cursed under her breath. She then yelled back, "We're going to Hinata General, Sakura knows where it's at."

Tsuroko could hear the car speed away, but could do nothing else.

Tears began streaming down the sides of her face. The once proud demeanor was gone. All that was left was a woman broken, worn down by guilt and sorrow. She collapsed onto the ground, her arms wrapping around her shoulders.

Sakura just stood there, not knowing what to do. She wanted to reach out, but she was too afraid of the once imposing swordswoman – too afraid that she would only make the elder Aoyama feel worst.

**Chapter 11: the world changed while you were away**

The smell of miso filled the house, reminding Keitaro of a home that no longer existed. He looked over to see Motoko, hovering above the stove, tasting to see if the soup needed any more seasoning. "Shinobu," he thought to himself. Seeing Motoko cook had reminded him of his life back at the Hinata apartments. To him, it seemed only like yesterday that he was enjoying Shinobu's home cooking, but five years have passed and the world did not wait for Keitaro Urishima. Three days have passed since his "awakening" and he had learned how life had moved on without him. The first two days, he read through online news articles and watched television to catch up on current events with Motoko always by his side.

On the first day, he learned that Japan had co-sponsored the World Cup with Korea, which he thought was a ridiculous concept. He was even more surprised to learn that his beloved soccer team had lost to Korea. Motoko just replied, "They had a strong team." It was on the third day that he learned of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. "Why are the Americans so angry," Keitaro asked. Motoko, dreading the coming conversation, could only reply, "9-11." Keitaro just looked at her with perplexed eyes.

"Keitaro, I have something to tell you, but it will not be easy," Motoko told him, while holding his hand. Keitaro, no longer startled by her physical touch, replied, "Tell me Motoko, what happened?" He was unprepared for what Motoko was about to tell him.

"Someone really knocked down the World Trade Center," Keitaro said in disbelief. "Yes, it was a senseless act of hatred," Motoko replied. He replayed the footage of the 9/11 attacks on Motoko's computer. Keitaro rubbed his eyes, figuring the images he saw were a trick of lighting or Hollywood special effects – it wasn't.

His eyes began to water. "And you said Haitani and Shirai were on that flight," Keitaro said barely above a whisper, his gaze never leaving the monitor. "Yes," Motoko replied, "they were going to visit a few of the American cities for vacation when it happened."

His friends were gone, killed by madmen. Worst yet, he could see how they died, images forever ingrained in digital format. He could imagine their terror as the men, armed with box cutters, took over the plane. He felt their fear as they experienced the sudden downward acceleration of the plane, speeding towards the towers. His body shivered at the images of the plane colliding into the building. He imagined the explosive shock consuming his flesh, the sounds of screaming suddenly cut short. The bile filled his throat. Motoko, seeing him in distress, brought out the waste basket for him. The sound of him retching drowned out the voice of Peter Jennings as he described the horror of that day. Motoko rubbed his back as he sat hunched over with his head over the basket.

He could remember the first day he met the two. It was during his first day of middle school. Even back then, they seemed inseparable. Hitani had asked if he could borrow some milk money. Keitaro of course said yes and that was how their friendship was sealed. His mind drifted to a cold rainy day, when the trio first met Motoko. Hitani, ever the ladies man, attempted to ask out Motoko and her friends. Her reply was quick and commanding – a vicious ki attack.

"I never even got to say goodbye," he whispered through his tears. Motoko's chest tightened. She hated to see him in so much pain, she felt powerless. Her despair was quickly interrupted when she felt her dress tighten around her midsection. She looked down to see Keitaro grabbing onto a piece of her dress, balling it up in his tightly clenched fist. She moved to embrace him, her arms blanketing over his figure. Keitaro reached around her waist, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. They both wept in silence for old friends long departed.

**Chapter 12: memories rehashed over soup**

The shock of learning of his friends' deaths had killed whatever appetite he had, but Motoko was insistent. "Your body needs nourishment," Motoko implored, "have some soup, it will make you feel better." Keitaro relented, not wanting to upset Motoko.

They ate dinner in silence.

When they had finished, Motoko set out to clean the dishes. As she was about to collect his plate, Keitaro spoke out, "Here, let me help you." "No need, Keitaro, I can take care of it, "Motoko responded. "Nonsense, you cooked such a wonderful meal, the least I can do is help clean up," Keitaro said with a note of finality in his voice. Motoko blushed at his complement. "Okay, how about I soap and you rinse," Keitaro added. She nodded her head in agreement.

After the dishes were done, they retired to the living room. It was time for them to talk more about the past. As Motoko made herself comfortable on the couch, Keitaro spoke first, "Hey Motoko, I was wondering, is your arm okay?" The question took her by surprise. "It is fine Keitaro, why do you ask," Motoko responded. "Well, I first noticed it when you held me the first time I woke up, your right seemed a little weaker than the left," Keitaro explained. Embarrassed by the memory, Motoko looked away.

Keitaro saw this and stuttered, "I'm sorry Motoko, I didn't mean to say anything hurtful." Then there was silence.

These past few days had been an emotional rollercoaster for the both of them with no promise of an end to it in sight. Motoko had returned to her meditations, trying to strengthen her inner will to deal with the vicissitudes of the coming days. She was prepared to tell him everything. With a silent pause, Motoko spoke, "You said nothing hurtful Keitaro, but the answer you seek is difficult to speak of. I am going to tell you something Keitaro, but I do not want you to blame yourself. Please, promise me you will not blame yourself."

Her eyes were pleading with him, the earnestness in her voice made him nervous. He replied, "Okay Motoko." That's when Motoko began her story about her visit with Kanako and Haruka, her battle with Tsuroko, and how she hurt her right arm, crippling her ability to wield a sword. Keitaro trembled at her words. He desperately tried to understand the depth of her suffering, but his limited experience with such feelings hindered him.

What struck him hardest was the way Motoko was acting as she recited her story. Her voice remained clam and even, her facial expression gave no hint of emotion. There was no sign of sadness or regret, just the cold retelling of history. Motoko saw this and explained, "It was a long time ago Keitaro, and the memories of those days no longer carry the same burden as it once did, so do not worry."

Keitaro was ill at ease with her response, but seeing that he could do nothing else, he let the subject drop. Motoko's mind continued to hum with thoughts. It was time to tell him what he had been so desperate to find out, it was time to tell him about Naru.

"Keitaro, can I ask you a question," Motoko asked. Keitaro was surprised by the question. "Sure," he replied. "Why have you not…why have you not attempted to contact the girls," she asked. Keitaro knew this question was bound to come up, but failed to find an answer on his own. He looked to Motoko, wondering what he was going to say to her. After taking a minute to reflect on his feelings, Keitaro spoke, "I don't know Motoko. I guess, I guess it's because, I was afraid of what was going to happen. So much has changed. When I first woke up and saw you, I didn't even recognize you. The more I thought about it, the more talking with the girls, Naru, frightened me. Does that make any sense?"

Motoko sat there quietly, hanging on to every word he uttered. When he finished, Motoko replied, "I understand Keitaro. So much has changed, it would be hard on anybody." Then she looked at him, trying to find the courage to continue, and then she added, "Keitaro, I have to tell you about Naru."

Keitaro's eyes widen at these words. He wanted to know, but at the same time, dreaded to be told the truth. Seeing his indecision, Motoko reached out for his hand, which he gladly accepted. He took a deep breath and then looked into her eyes, telling her to continue.

"Naru," Motoko started out, "Naru never left your side."

**Chapter 13: my heart breaking**

The paramedics came crashing onto the stone patio. A squat, heavy-set fellow took in the scene and told his junior to look after the young girl lying unconscious on the floor. He knelt beside Keitaro, feeling for his pulse. It was weak and sporadic. "Dammit," he whispered. Naru heard him. She began to feel the strength returning to her body. She lifted herself up off the ground, the image of Keitaro falling still reverberating through her mind.

The paramedic started to bandage his wounds to stop the bleeding. He looked over to his junior and called out, "how is she?" The young man finished his cursory examination and replied, "I think she'll be fine, no sign of brain damage." The heavy-set man plunged a syringe into Keitaro's chest, pumping his heart full of adrenaline. "Good, then get the stretcher over here fast, we need to transport him stat," said the older paramedic. Haruka and Kitsune were also on the stone patio, too shocked to move. Mutsumi could hear the paramedics yelling technical jargon from the changing room. She wanted to go out there and see what was going on, but Haruka had asked her to look after Sarah and Su, who were latched onto her side.

She heard one of them say, "He's lost too much blood." "He…," she thought, "does that man mean Keitaro, oh god, what happened to Keitaro?"

Naru slowly tried to walk over to Keitaro, but Haruka reached out and held her back. "Let me go," Naru shrieked, trying to slap Haruka out of the way. She dodged Naru's attack and countered, locking her arms in with her own. Naru struggled to break free, but Haruka's strength was too much for her. She screamed, "I have to help Keitaro, let me go!" Haruka was trying to fight back the tears, her normally cold demeanor shattered at the sight of her fallen nephew. She then said in a booming voice, "Calm down Naru, you can't do anything for him now. Let the paramedics do their job, don't interfere." Naru felt like she was punched in the gut again.

The paramedics were loading Keitaro on the stretcher, when Motoko finally came out of her fugue state. The sight of blood on her hands reminded her that this was no dream. She looked up and saw Keitaro disappearing into the house, being whisked away by the paramedics. She then saw Naru in Haruka's arms. She was crying, screaming into Haruka's chest, "Why," over and over again.

The young paramedic came back out a few seconds later. There was no time to bring up the second stretcher, so the young man picked up the unconscious Shinobu into his arms and started for the door. He stopped in front of Haruka and Naru, but before he could say anything, Naru yelled out, "Keitaro?" The young man, his facial gesture reflecting the deep sadness within him, spoke with great urgency, "there's no time for specifics. We need to get both of them to the hospital. One of you can ride with us to the hospital, family preferable, but we need information, so anyone knowledgeable will be fine. The rest of you can meet us there; we're heading for Hinata General." Haruka replied, "I'll go, I'm Keitaro's aunt." She then looked to Kitsune and ordered, "Kitsune, call Shinbu's parents and tell them what's going on. Then drive the rest of the girls over to the hospital. Understand?" Kitsune just nodded her head. Haruka was about to run off when she stopped. Without turning her head, she said with a cold, almost malicious voice, "Bring Motoko with you," then she left.

Hearing Motoko's name mentioned sent Naru into a blind fury. She ran to Motoko and struck her with all her might, sending her to the ground. Naru then climbed on top of Motoko and began to pummeling the young samurai with her fists, screaming, "It was you! You killed him!" Kitsune was bewildered by what was happening. Shinobu had drowned, but Keitaro had saved her. Keitaro was dying, seemingly at the hands of Motoko. Now, Naru was thrashing about wildly on top of Motoko. None of it was right. Then she saw Motoko, lying on the ground with her arms protecting her head. Kitsune lunged towards Naru, capturing her flailing arms. Naru was trying to fight her off, yelling, "It's all her fault! She killed him! She killed him for saving Shinobu!"

Kitsune felt her chin lit up in pain as Naru's head came bashing into it. With a strained voice, Kitsune yelled out, "Stop Naru! Keitaro's still alive and he needs us right now, get a hold of yourself!" Naru paused at her words. Kitsune, sensing some semblance of thought returning to her best friend, continued, "We have to go to the hospital right now, but you have to get a hold of yourself, okay. Keitaro is going to need all of us to pull through this – all of us. It's what he would want."

Naru sat there, still on top of Motoko, her eyes hidden by her bangs. Her only movement was the clenching and unclenching of her fists. "No more hysterics," she commanded herself, "I won't make the same mistake twice."

Speaking through her teeth, Naru spoke out," Let's go Kitsune. I'll call Shinobu's parents on the way." She then got up and walked towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to Motoko, glaring at her with blazing eyes, "Keitaro would want you there, but you can walk. I don't want to see you, understand?" Motoko could only nod in response. Kitsune wanted to say something, but found the words had left her. She just stared at Motoko for a few seconds and sighed, then followed Naru back into the house, leaving the young samurai to fend off her own demons – alone.


	5. Chapter 14 to 15

**Chapter 14: She never left your side**

"She never left your side Keitaro," Motoko assured him. "Even in the hospital, she refused to leave you."

"I won't leave him," Naru growled at the nurse. "Please ma'am, visiting hours are over," the nurse replied, trembling. Naru stood up from her chair and approached the young woman like a predator stalking her prey. She glared at her with demon eyes, the nurse breaking out into a cold sweat. Stuttering out the words, the nurse tried to convince Naru of reason, "You…you…can come visit him…tomorrow morning." Naru made no reply, but continued to walk towards her, stopping only inches from her face.

With a cold and menacing voice, Naru whispered," I lost him once little girl. He died and came back to me. Do you believe that I would leave him now?" The nurse couldn't speak, her eyes averted away from Naru's sweltering gaze. Naru was about to launch the young woman out of the room, when Haruka entered the room.

"Nurse, please let me handle this," Haruka said as she gently led the clearly shaken young woman out of the room. "Haruka, I won't leave him, ever," Naru said gently as she walked over to Keitaro, clutching his hand.

Haruka stood in the doorway, saying nothing at first. All that could be heard was the beeping sound of the monitors and the gentle hum of Keitaro's breathing apparatus. Haruka's heart nearly broke at the sight of her nephew, comatose, his body hooked into machines by tubes and wires. Steeling herself, she spoke, "Naru, you need to rest. You're no good to anyone if you're exhausted." Naru, gently caressing Keitaro's hand, could not turn away from him. She replied, speaking through her tears, "I never got to tell him how much I love him, Haruka. He loved me with all his heart and all I did was put him down, hit him for every little mistake. He never gave up on me, not even once. How can I leave him now?"

Haruka closed the distance between them. She placed her hands on Naru's shoulders and started to massage them. "I know it hurts Naru, but he wouldn't want you this way. He'd want you to take care of yourself first. Come home and rest, we'll be back tomorrow morning," said Haruka.

For a few minutes nothing was said. Naru, trying to fight back the tears, stood up from her chair. She leaned over him, gently placing a kiss on his lips. Naru whispered, "I love you Keitaro, please come back to me." She then walked out of the room, leaving Haruka alone with her nephew. She made ready to leave, when something inside stopped her. She looked back to Keitaro, and slowly made her way to him. She leaned over his prostrate body, brushing his hair with her hand. She whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening, asking for help – something she would never do for herself.

"Come back to us Keitaro," prayed Haruka, hoping that somehow he could hear her words.

Motoko, wiping away an errant tear, continued, "Naru visited you every day in the hospital. And when you came back home, she was there, always by your side."

Keitaro interjected a question, "Did she ever get into Tokyo U.?" Motoko's throat dried up at this question. She tried to speak, but only a guttural sound escaped her lips. She took a sip of her tea, trying to lubricate the words out. She spoke once more, "Naru never took the entrance exam again. She said that her dream was to go to Tokyo U. with you and that she'd wait until you came back to her."

Keitaro's heart broke at the news. "She didn't go because of me," he whispered to himself. Motoko heard this, and added, "She told Haruka that when she was young, her dream was to attend Tokyo U. She never knew why it had to be Tokyo U., she just assumed it was prestige or the challenge that attracted her. It wasn't until she met you that she realized why she strove so hard to get in. She wanted to go and live the legend Keitaro. She wanted to go to Tokyo U. with the man she loves, and live happily ever after, so you see, she could not go without you."

The words hung in the air, trying to seep into Keitaro's dense mind. He wanted to speak, but he couldn't form the thoughts. It was all just too much for him. Motoko saw his troubled look and hesitated to speak. She did not want to tell him what came next; she did not want to tell him how he came to be in America.

It was not to be.

Keitaro, finally finding his words, asked, "Motoko, what happened to Naru?"

Motoko closed her eyes and prayed silently to the gods for the strength to tell him of that night and hoped that somehow – he would forgive her for what she had done to him.

**Chapter 15: one night in November**

Haruka had managed to cover up the incident. Tsuroko had vanished without a trace, and there were only a few customers who bore witness to the event. Sakura swore never to reveal Motoko's presence to anyone under penalty of death. Haruka had a way with words. Seeing Motoko sacrifice her sword arm to fulfill a promise gave Haruka the courage to do what was necessary.

For two years, the residents of the Hinata apartments lived their lives in painful remembrance of their fallen friend and love. Naru had abandoned her pursuit of Tokyo University. Instead, she chose to stay by Keitaro's side and take up his managerial duties.

Shinobu became a shadow of her former self. She withdrew from the world, even from Su, who had been her closest friend. For two years, she focused only on one goal – to make it into Tokyo University. "I won't fail you Sempai," Shinobu often said to the unconscious Keitaro.

Mitsune, the name she went by after Keitaro went into a coma, fell on hard times. She wallowed in silent misery, lamenting over the loss of the man she secretly loved. She gave herself to the bottle and whatever available man that was in reach.

Mutsumi was devastated by Keitaro's injuries. Though he remained alive, she felt as if he was already gone. The man she loved was forever lost to her. Her only solace was the archaeologist who stumbled upon her unconscious form in the middle of Kyoto. "Oro Oro, where am I," she asked, still feeling faint. "You're in Kyoto," Seta answered. Mutsumi looked up and saw a man with the same gentle eyes as her love. Two years later, they married and raised Sarah together, along with their newborn son – Keitaro.

Su abandoned her childhood and chose to live in her mature form. When asked why she decided to grow up, Su would simply reply, "it was the only way to help big brother." She tore down the jungle in her room to make way for her lab equipment. For the first six months of Keitaro's coma, Su threw herself into mastering biology, medicine, and organic chemistry. The residents knew that she was a genius, but soon discovered that her intelligence was unrivaled on the planet. It was only her desire to stay forever young that prevented her true potential to shine through. They also discovered, to their ever lasting amazement, that their Su was a princess of the small island nation of Momol, a nation rich in natural oil deposits and intellectual talent. With incredible resources at her disposal, Su set out to develop a treatment for her former manager and secret love.

It was her chemical formula that served as the basis for Dr. Smith's experimental treatment. The treatment used to revive Keitaro from his deep coma.

Haruka was left alone to shoulder the burden. She was den mother to the girls and manager of a small, but successful tea shop. She found love renewed in an unlikely place. His name was Shirai, Keitaro's friend. Though he was several years younger, he had a kind and caring heart like the man she had once loved a life time ago. Unlike that man, Shirai never once placed anything above her. It was Shirai that gave her the strenght to continue after Keitaro's "accident." However, their love affair was cut short one September day.

"Haruka," Sakura called out, her hands trembling. "Yes," Haruka merely responded. "I'm so sorry Haruka," she tried to finish, but her sobs got the better of her. "What is it Sakura, what's wrong," said Haruka, her chest tightening inexplicably. "It's Shirai," Sakura cried out, her hands covering her face, mumbling her words. Haruka grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded to know, "What about Shirai?" Lost for words, Sakura reached into her pocket and pulled out the morning paper. On the cover was a picture of an explosion rocking the side of two tall buildings. The headline read, "New York City Under Attack!" Haruka's eyes darted back and forth, reading each line until she came across a particular passage – it read "United Airlines Flight 175 was crashed into the South Tower…" Haruka collapsed to the ground. The night before, Shirai called from Boston, telling his love that he was coming home a day early. Shirai spoke, "I convinced Haitani to leave a day early, so we'll be on US Flight 175 to New York, then we'll get on the next available JAL flight back home. I love you honey, gotta run. I'll see you soon." Haruka reached for her cell phone and desperately pressed the speed dial. It rang, but was cut short, "I'm sorry, but the number you that you dialed is currently unavailable," said the automatic message. "Oh please God, this can't be happening," Haruka wept openly – clutching onto Sakura with her might.

It was almost a year since she lost Shirai. If it were not for her responsibilities to her family, she would have went to Afghanistan to exact her revenge against any who had called themselves Al Qaeda or the Taliban. Leave none alive was her chosen moto. "Another time," she promised herself, but first, Keitaro.

Haruka stood outside the hospital, smoking her cigarette. Motoko finally walked out, her right arm in a sling. She was surprised to see Haruka waiting for her. Before she could say anything, Haruka spoke out, "We need to talk."

Motoko nodded her head in agreement.

"Walk with me," Haruka ordered. Motoko followed. After a few minutes, Motoko broke the silence, "I just wanted to tell you Haruka-san how sorry I was when I heard about Shirai. He was a good man." Haruka's facial expression showed no response, but her eyes seemed to soften. "Yes, he was," Haruka responded in a gentle voice. Silence once again set in.

"There's something I want you to do for Keitaro," Haruka declared, "but it will involve great sacrifice on your part." Motoko replied with deep conviction, "Anything for Keitaro." Haruka took a deep breath in, forcing her courage to the forefront. She exhaled, and said, "Keitaro would not want the other girls to live their lives as they have been living them. Naru has abandoned her dreams. Shinobu's closed herself off from the world. Mitsune can't find peace without the aid of a bottle, and poor Su, she left behind her childhood. The house has become a mausoleum Motoko, something has to be done – something drastic."

The hair on the back of Motoko's neck began to tingle. She knew of the hardships that all of the girls had endured, but Motoko was surprised by the depths of their sorrow. Haruka continued, "That's why I want to send him away to America." She then turned her head towards Motoko, and with a voice filled with both conviction and sadness, she completed her thought, "with you."

Motoko was floored by Haruka's words. Of course she would go with him. She would travel to hell and back if it meant being with Keitaro, but she was amazed that Haruka, who still had not forgiven her for what she had done, was asking her to take care of her nephew for her. Then a thought entered her mind.

Haruka saw the change in her expression and replied, "The others would follow him without a doubt, which is why the next thing I ask of you will require a great sacrifice. I cannot tell you upfront, only that if Keitaro ever wakes up and finds out the truth, he will not forgive you. He will curse your name, he may even hate you. I know you cannot imagine such a reaction from Keitaro, but understand that what I ask of you will be that terriblek, but it must be done. I wish there was another way, but there isn't. Are you will to endure this burden Motoko?"

Motoko, her eyes unyielding, stared into Haruka's. She knew very well the price that Haruka was asking of her – a price she would gladly pay three fold. She replied with a voice of steel, "Yes, tell me what needs to be done."

Haruka looked away towards the Hinata apartments. From their vantage point, they could see the house, standing proudly in the distance. "Generations of my family have lived on these lands Motoko. We have survived wars, famines, and natural disasters. That house was built by my ancestors, a house built out of love." Haruka then returned her gaze into Motoko's eyes and spoke with an uncompromising tone in her voice, "I want you to burn that house down Motoko. I want it razed to the ground and with it – Keitaro."

As Haruk spoke those words, a lone tear broke free from her right eye. The reservoir in Motoko's eyes had already broken free, her tears raining down her face. "So many tears have been shed already," Motoko whispered, "how many more must be shed?"

There was no further discussion, only the unending gaze of two women determined to do the impossible.

"Yes, I understand what you ask of me," Motoko replied, "I will do as you ask."


	6. a note from author

A brief note by the author

Hey folks.

I just want to thank you for your reviews and your support. I've been thinking of what direction I want to take with this story. My original intent was to pile drive the angst and end it with the mother of all tragic endings.

But then, I thought of my love for happy endings and hatred for sad ones.

I thought about doing a rollercoaster with high points and low points, but I think that's just too much emotional content.

Tell me what you think.

By the way, I seem to read a lot of disclaimer's out there, so here's mine.

I don't own Love Hina. This is just a work of fanfiction. I am not profiting off of Love Hina financially, so no one sue me.


	7. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey, thanks for the input. I have a storyline in mind, but I won't give up the details. It might change, if I can think of something better. Once again, thank you all for the reviews, I really do appreciate the support. By the way, for those of you who don't know, I don't own Love Hina. **

**Chapter 16: Do you not know?**

The summer nights offered little relief from the sweltering heat of the sun-drenched day. Motoko had opened all the windows in the house, allowing some of the breeze to flow though, carrying with them the droning sounds of the cicadas outside. The full moon hung low in the sky, flooding the house with its gentle presence, allowing the occupants to keep the lights off and maintain the illusion of cool relief.

When they finished their dinner, Motoko and Keitaro settled down in the living room - the coolest section of the house.. They sat together on the couch, where the breeze could be felt. Motoko excused herself and a few minutes later brought back a tray with two cups and a bottle of sake. She had also changed from her long-sleeve shirt and sundress combo into a pair of shorts and a loose fitting tank top. Keitaro's gaped as his eyes made contact with Motoko's stunning body, her new attire revealing the gentle curves that aroused a deep primal urge in him.

Keitaro quickly recovered his composure as she neared him, thanking the gods that he was partially hidden by the shadows and thus escaping the potentially embarrasing situation. Motoko, not noticing his reaction, began to pour the chilled sake into their cups. They toasted in the western tradition and hoped for a relief from the summer heat. As the night and the sake flowed, they began to reminsce on their favorite Hinata memories. "Remember when Su blew you up," laughed Motoko. Keitaro, laughing along, replied, "You have to be more specific Motoko, Su had a tendency of blowing me up at least once a week."

As they journeyed together through happy memories, their path began to lead them to darker places. The mood grew somber as Motoko recounted the days after Keitaro's hospitalization and of Naru's devotion.

"Naru loved me," he repeated, barely comprehending the significance of this simple statement of fact. He felt Motoko's hand tightening around his own, trying to comfort the maelstrom of emotions that was evident in his expression. He responded by tightening his own grip, then he looked into his eyes and barely above a whisper, asked, "What happened to Naru?"

Keitaro could feel her hands trembling as he spoke those words, the same hands that had once split boulders with a steel blade. Keitaro looked and saw only pain and anguish in Motoko's delicate features. The memories of her tears flooded his mind. She was hurting, the sharp edge of the past had not dulled for Motoko, much as she professed otherwise. He wanted to know everything, but not at this price. Haitani and Shirai were gone. Naru and the other girls were on the other side of the world, living their own lives, but Motoko was sitting before him - straining under the weight of the past. He couldn't do anything for his other friends, but for Motoko, he could help her - be there for her. It was in this moment, when he realized how much he wanted to rescue Motoko from the emotions that was tearing her apart, that he became aware of something that was as plain as day to any other man - "Motoko's beautiful."

Motoko had always been pretty, but now, she was almost angelic. Her pale skin glowed with an ethereal light, accentuating the sheen in her lustrous raven colored hair. Her supple body finally registered, stirring his passions. It was nott lust creeping into Keitaro's consciousness, but a rising feeling of something more profound.

He had seen her soul lay bare, a side he knew no one on Earth had seen, not even Tsuroko. He broke down in tears in her arms, and felt her warmth as she comforted him. What was it that Granny Hina use to say, "To trust is to expose one's vulnerabilities to another, to love is to reciprocate." A bond was formed between the two, that much he was certain. They had grown closer in the last three days – could it be?

His heart skipped a beat.

Keitaro then saw in slow motion her lips parting. His brow began to sweat, his heart beating faster in his chest, the intense emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Keitaro reached his hand out.

Motoko compelled her lips to form the words she had hoped she would never have to say, but she was startled to feel something pressing against her lips, preventing her from speaking. Her eyes shot open and found Keitaro's palm resting over her mouth.

He could feel her lips moving along his palm, electrifying his skin. For a moment, their eyes locked and Keitaro could see the haunting loneliness gripping her soul.

His hand slowly retreated, much to Motoko's disappointment. She wanted to say something, but Keitaro's eyes told her to remain silent and let him speak. She noticed his demeanor had changed. He seemed more confident. Keitaro spoke, "I can't turn back time, Motoko. So no more about things that can't be changed, just answer me one question. Are they happy today?"

Motoko reflected on his question. There had been much pain, but from what Haruka had informed her, the girls were getting on with their lives, renewing old dreams and finding new paths to take. Yes, there was still sadness, but they were all finding happiness as well – happiness built on a lie she helped create.

"Yes, Keitaro, I think they are happy, but…," Motoko tried to explain, but Keitaro cut her off with a gentle caress of her cheek as he brushed back the strands of hair that had hid her eyes from his view.

He then gently asked, "Answer me another question Motoko, why are you here with me? Why do all this?"

His gentle expression did not betray the confusion that was unleashed in his mind. "That's not what I was going to ask," he thought, "why did I ask that?"

It was all a dream for Motoko. His gentle touch, the warmth of his smile, it was everything that she had ever longed for. She had struggled with her heart's desire ever since he entered her life with almost lethal consequences. She would not make the same mistake again.

"Do you not know, Keitaro," she replied in a hushed voice. She seemed almost demure to him. Motoko then slowly approached him, leaning her head against his chest. She could feel his heart beating – beating faster with her touch. She breathed in his scent, luxuriating in the moment. Her ephemeral voice spoke once more, "It is because I love you Keitaro."

The words had momentarily struck him deaf and dumb. Keitaro had never known what it was like to be loved by a woman, especially one so beautiful. He loved Naru, and she apparently loved him, but it was only made clear after he had gone into a coma.

It had always pained him how lopsided their relationship had been. She led and he followed, seemingly around a never-ending circular path.

Motoko was already in his heart, along with the other residents of the Hinata Apartments, but the time they had shared since his awakening had changed something within him. She had revealed to him her dark secrets and exposed her frailty without hesitation.

Even now, he could feel his shirt dampening by her tears. The same guilt and shame she felt the first night when he had awoken still continued to burden her soul. His mind opened to an awareness that had escaped him during his stay at Hinata. Though she had never ventured her true emotions, Keitaro could feel what she was feeling. Motoko was ashamed of the happiness she was experiencing - the happiness of being with someone you love.

It was at this realization that the final resistance gave way to a new feeling in his heart – love. He could love this woman who sacrificed everything to be with him. He could forget the past and live for the future if she stood by him. This was the answer that came to him as he caressed the back of her head, as she silently wept into his chest.

His arms draped over her deliciously warm body, his lips gently landing on top of her head. "Whatever happens Motoko, I want you to know, I won't live my life in the past anymore," then he gently lifted her face to his own, and whispered, "I'm going to live for the here and now – with you." Motoko died in those words and was reborn.

"Is this happiness," she asked herself, engulfed in the warmth that was blazing in her soul.

Their lips met under a cascade of moonlight. Motoko breathed in his breath, consuming his passion with her own. The concept of time was lost to the two lovers as the radiance of their love washed over them in gentle tides.

"So this is what love does," thought Keitaro as his kiss sunk deeper into Motoko's.

"Yes, this is what love does," thought Motoko.

In the west, across the continent and over the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean, a dial on a long forgotten console lit up in a brilliant red. In the crimson glow, a symbol of three opened eyes could be seen. The long dormant computer began to hum with activity. The monitor flashed and fizzled until a line of code emerged. A series of zeroes and ones streaked across the monitor; the processors computing the telemetry data it was receiving from a satellite launched over four years ago.

Ten minutes later, the computations ceased – the computer had finished its calculations. A single sentenced blinked onto the screen.

Energy signature of Urishima Keitaro detected. Location: unknown.


	8. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **So, I'm a little disappointed in this chapter, only because I know that I need a transition piece to carry the narration forward, but it's boring to me. So I had to resort to some cheap tricks to keep it entertaining. Please forgive some of the cliché stuff, but I promise more pain, anguish, and perhaps some love.

**Chapter 17: the lull before the storm**

Natalie Stevens was fresh out of Harvard University with a degree in finance and Japanese studies. Three months after graduation, she still had no gainful employment. She had turned down job offers, because none were from Japanese firms. Since she was a child, she had been fascinated by Japanese culture. Her parents thought their daughter's obsession for the foreign country was strange, given they were 6th generation Mississippi stock. Still, if it made their little "Natty" happy, who were they to argue?

One Monday morning, a letter had arrived to her addressed from Japan. She was overjoyed as she read the contents of the letter, informing her that she was being offered a position with Su-Tech, the hottest tech firm since Intel. In less than three years, Su-Tech had gone from a small start-up to a multi-billion dollar technology innovator. She threw a lavish party for her friends and family in celebration of the momentous occasion. Her dream was to be become the most powerful CEO in corporate history and it seemed like she had just taken her first step. Yes, Natalie Stevens had a lot to be grateful for on that day – her future seemed so promising.

That was almost two years ago and life had found a way of stomping down on young Natalie. "God, She's such a bitch," she screamed mentally as she typed furiously at her station, trying to meet her newly revised deadline. Her job was to analyze consumer trends, but somehow, she was also given the thankless task of being her boss's impromptu assistant. This meant more responsibility and a great deal more work for the fashionable young woman.

She was overworked, underfed, and worst yet, under sexed. But she continued to meet every one of her boss's demand, eventually matching pace with her superior and tormentor. Natalie made a vow not to let the demon woman break her. And her boss was a real demon. She wielded her authority judiciously, striking down any who would defy her will or fail to meet her expectations – and her expectations were always unrealistically high. Her ruthlessness was legendary. A common folklore floating around the office was that once upon a time, she was in love with a very kind man. This man, however, rejected her. In a fit of rage, she had him gutted and killed right in front of his friends and family. Natalie never believed the gossip. She would often remark, "Please, that bitch can't fall in love, you need a heart for that."

Natalie attributed her boss's cool detached demeanor and cruelty to jealousy. It was well known that her boss never completed her college education and her hatred for all things Tokyo University was also legendary. Many applicants were turned down, no matter how well qualified they were, simply because of their affiliation with the institution. Her boss was just a petty little girl with a god complex who couldn't make it to college. Though, how she became the Head of Marketing for Su-Tech was never in doubt. Even Natalie had to agree to that. She had never met anyone as cunning, cruel, and unrelenting as Mitsune Konno – the Demon Bitch from Hell as she was known by the employees of Su-Tech.

Mitsune proudly bore that title; it meant that she was doing her job right. She was there from the beginning when Su-Tech was just a lowly little engineering firm run and operated by her old friend, Koalla Su. They ran it together out of Su's room back in the Hinata Apartments. Su would come up with the inventions, while Mitsune sold it to the highest bidder. The company didn't make much, but it made enough to pay for Keitaro's home care and fund Su's budding bio-medical research.

Then the fire happened.

After the fire, Su left for Tokyo and used her vast fortunate to build Su-Tower, Japan's most technological advanced office building. Mitsune tagged along, thinking she could do something in the marketing department. It was Mitsune's brilliant marketing strategies and indomitable guile that spurred the company's fantastic growth.

Success, however, changed Mitsune. Gone were the days of easy drinking and relaxation. Her life was driven by one purpose – to sell the product. She rode her workers into the ground and accepted nothing less than maximum results. Natalie was one of those workers, but she refused to be brought down by anyone – she had a dream to fulfill.

"Done," she cried out with one last tap on the keyboard. She looked over to her watch and saw the time read 5:01pm. "Oh Shit," she yelled out, "I'm late." She hastily saved the file and attached it to a secure email, which was then sent directly to her boss. Just as she clicked the send button, her phone rang. The beeping light indicated that it was Ms. Konno. She picked up and could hear only three words before the phone line went dead, "Come here now."

There was fear in Natalie's eyes as she rushed her towards Ms. Konno's office. The door opened as she approached. Hesitant at first, Natalie summoned her full strength and entered the capacious office with her chin held high – show no fear she reminded herself.

The corner office was the envy of every up and coming executive, including Natalie. Its walls were actually glass panes, providing the occupant with a grand view over the Tokyo landscape. The desk was of modern design, a single plane of obsidian glass with four black steel columns to support it. On the desk sat three flat screen monitors, a key board, and a mouse. An executive phone system was sitting on the edge, along with a writing pad and a single pen holder. The office had its own black leather couch and a fully stocked bar.

Ms. Konno was sitting in her plush leather executive's chair, facing the Tokyo skyline. Natalie slowly approached her superior, nervous, but never daring to show a hint of her emotions. She stopped as she reached what she believed was a safe an appropriate distance from her boss. She was preparing for a tongue-lashing, but instead, came silence.

The sound of ice hitting glass could be heard, as Ms. Konno began to swirl the dark liquor in her cup. She then spoke, "Natalie, I read somewhere that you had a dream of becoming a powerful CEO, is that correct?"

She was dumbstruck by the question. Natalie had once written an editorial for the Harvard Crimson extolling the virtues of women being in executive positions, but that was years ago. In that editorial, she wrote a single line pertaining to dream. She hadn't mention her dream to anyone since, not even her loved ones knew of her secret aspirations. Finding her nerve, she responded, "Yes, it still is Ms. Konno."

It was silent again. Then Mitsune spoke, "I once knew a man who made a promise when he was five years old. It was a silly promise, but he worked hard to keep it. It was his dream to fulfill his promise to the one he made it with."

Not knowing why her mouth was moving, Natalie asked, "Did he ever fulfill his dream?"

"No," Mitsune said as her voice began reflecting a deep sadness, "he died before he could live his dream." Natalie could not believe what she was hearing - the Demon Bitch from Hell was actually expressing emotions. "Today is the fourth anniversary of his death," said Mitsune, wiping away the tears that were flowing down her face. "He died in a fire almost four years ago." The tears came cascading down. Natalie instinctively walked over to Mitsune and held her in her arms, patting her head as she wept onto her shoulder.

After several minutes, Mitsune managed to rein in her emotions, allowing Natalie to disengage. Her mind was racing. She had never seen a sliver of emotion from Ms. Konno before this night. Now, she could see the pain in Konno's eyes, as it reverberated throughout her body.

Mitsune saw this in Natalie's eyes, and placed her hand on her shoulders. "I was not always the Demon Bitch from Hell. There was a time when all I really wanted from life was good sake, good friends, and good times. Strange, how life has a way of changing a girl."

Before Natalie could ask the next logical question, Mitsune cut in, "I'll be leaving for awhile, so I'm going to leave you in charge of the operations here. And if you do a good job, you might get to keep it. Now go, I have some things to take care of."

Natalie was floored by her words, but before she could respond, Mitsune had her by the arms and practically flung her out of the office. Before the door was closed, Mitsune poked her head out and said, "Hey, Natalie, I really am sorry for being such a bitch to you, but I want you know that I always thought of you as a friend. So no more Ms. Konno, you can call me Kitsune from now on."

A figure stepped out of the shadows as Kitsune closed the door behind her. The young lady stood not much taller than Kitsune, her blonde hair shimmering in the pale moonlight. She walk towards the bar and poured herself some gin and looked over to Kitsune. She spoke out, "Kitsune, that's a name I haven't heard in years. Why the change?"

Chuckling at the sight of her friend's hair, she replied, "No reason, just felt the natural thing to do. Speaking of change, what's with the hair?" The young girl, ruffling her blonde tresses, giggled, "What, you don't like it?"

It had been almost a year since Kitsune last saw her friend Shinobu. Her grueling work schedule and Shinobu's studies had made it difficult for the old friends to meet up, but neither could ever deny the promise they made to one another – to be together on this day.

"I can't believe it's been four years since he past away," said Shinobu, her voice drifting into her memories. Kitsune, sitting on the couch with a drink in hand, replied, "It's been awhile, hasn't it." The two drank in silence. Much has changed since their Hinata days. Kitsune had become a top level executive, while Shinobu pursued her teaching degree in Tokyo University. They reflected on the past, and wondered what life would have been like if Keitaro was still with them.

It was Kitsune who broke the silence. "Where's Naru," she asked. "I'm right here silly," a voice spoke from behind. Kitsune turned around and saw Naru, standing in front of her office door. Kitsune's eyes began to narrow, her attention focusing on the expanded waistline of her best friend, then her eyes drifted upwards, stopping at her breasts – yes, they had grown. "Why Naru, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were gaining a few pounds," the fox said slyly. Naru, a vein throbbing in her forehead, her fist clenched, replied, "Now, Mitsune, you know I'm three months pregnant."

Kitsune couldn't contain the laughter trying to break free from her core. Shinobu was at this time already laughing, tears starting to collect in her eyes. Life seemed less vibrant with Keitaro gone, but happiness was not extinguished, not as long as the girls remember their love for each other. This alone assured of good times to come concluded the Tokyo University student.

Kitsune broke down and began to laugh, which was the final straw for Naru – a jovial laughter erupting from her lips. The three girls then came together and embraced one another. Yes, it had been too long since their last reunion – the girls of Hinata were once again together, all except for one.

"Hey, where's Su," Naru asked. Shinobu and Kitsune had no answer. Then Kitsune spoke, "Eh, she'll be here. She's a flake, but she wouldn't let anything stop her from being here right now." Shinobu and Naru nodded their head in agreement. No, today was their day together – Su would not betray that bond, forged by a common tragedy and strengthened by love.

As the trio began to celebrate their night together, sharing their memories over laughter and tears in the heart of Tokyo, a man was walking along a street - thousands of miles away.

A man in love can face many dangers for their beloved. Keitaro was such a man, but what he faced could make any husband to waiver. In his hand, a lunch box for his Motoko. In the distance, the building where she taught a Japanese language course for college students. In his way were the sorority sisters of Alpha Gamma Pi, offering the throngs of young collegiate men body shots of Apple cider for a donation to their favorite charity – Save the Abandon Pets Drive.

Young, vivacious blondes with ample mounds and form fitting outfits were tempting him to stop and partake in their charity event – delaying him from his quest. "Wow, American girls are so different from Japanese," Keitaro thought, trying to maintain his composure as one young co-ed wrapped his free arm with hers, pressing him into her bosoms. "He's so cute, I just love Asian guys," the co-ed beamed, squishing him between her wonders.

Blood was in the water, drawing the attention of the other predators. They came in, circling at first, appraising him in a dazzling array of blue, green, and auburn eyes. Then they struck. "Oh my god, he is so cute," one girl squealed, grabbing for his neck. Another, attaching herself like a lamprey to his side, just giggled. "Someone save me," he called out in Japanese.

Someone Japanese replied back, "Keitaro, is that you?" Keitaro recognized the deep timbre of that voice - a voice that he attempted to emulate countless times sitting in front of the bathroom mirror. "Seta, is that you," Keitaro called out again, struggling past the throes of women clinging onto him.

Seta stood there with a look of utter disbelief in his eyes. The boy that had haunted his dreams for the past four years – the boy who supposedly died – was standing before him, knee deep in sorority girls. "He always had a way with the women," a voice struck out in his mind.

Clearing the horde, Keitaro leapt up and embraced his mentor with genuine esteem. "Oh, he's gay," said one disappointed young girl. The questions came out rapid-fire. How've you been Seta? What are you doing here? I heard you got married to Mutsumi, how's she doing?

"Whoa, calm down Keitaro," Seta said, his hands firmly on the manic young man's shoulders. The look in Keitaro's eyes told Seta everything. He didn't know about the Hinata Apartments and his supposed death. Seta still had questions, but he thought to proceed with caution. His next few words were painfully measured and chosen. "I'm doing fine. I'm here for an archaeology symposium that's being held here in the university. Mutsumi is fine, she's back in Okinawa," Seta replied. Then he asked, "What are you doing here Keitaro, aren't you supposed to be back in Japan?" Keitaro was puzzled at his question. "Doesn't he know about me being moved to America for treatment? But it is Seta and he is quite forgetful at times, may be no one told him," Keitaro thought to himself. Then with a smile, he replied, "Well, I came here to America, because Haruka thought I could get better here, and well, I guess I did. Oh, hey, I'm about to go meet up with Motoko, you should come and eat lunch with us."

"Motoko," Seta repeated. He hadn't heard of that name in almost six years, not since the day of Keitaro's accident. Mutsumi never talked about that day; nor would any of the girls present. He tried to get Sarah to talk about it one day, but she just cried. He never mentioned it again. Motoko was a factor that he couldn't account for. Seta needed time and information. Thinking quickly, Seta responded, "Sorry, can't right now, but let's meet up for dinner. How about say six?"

Keitaro agreed and gave Seta his address. As he was walking away, Seta called out, "Hey Keitaro, let's keep dinner a secret for now. I'd like to surprise Motoko." Keitaro, thinking Seta's request a bit unusual but innocent enough, replied, "Sure, see you later."

Seta stood there smiling, but his mind was restive. Keitaro was alive and in America. Haruka had to be involved somehow, but why was Motoko here to? None of it made any sense, and yet, he could see the logic slowly emerge. Then a sudden thought flew into his mind, "Was that a ring on his left hand?"

His thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his sleeve. He turned around and saw a rather delicious looking red head with emerald green eyes. She asked demurely, "would you like to donate to a worthy charity." He turned his head, closing his eyes. The young girl could see that the man was troubled, but was surprised to see him turn his attention towards her again; his face had no remnants of the conflicts he was experiencing before.

"Sure," he beamed, massaging the back of his neck, "Why not?"

Meanwhile, in a small town in Japan, a young girl with a dark complexion stepped through the doors of the Hinata Tea House, her face betraying none of the sinister emotions lurking beneath the surface.

"Haruka," she growled mentally.

The said person looked up from her counter, her eyes widen at the recognition of the young lady standing in her store – "Su, what are you doing here?"

"Hello Haruka, it's been awhile. I thought I come and enjoy some of your fine tea," the island princess and CEO of Su-Tech responded. Haruka, carrying with her a pot of brewed tea, walked over to an open seat at the counter and invited Su to sit next to her.

"So what can I do you for," Haruka asked. Su, her smile still present, replied, "Did you know that I loved Keitaro, Haruka-san?" Haruka cringed at the question. She knew of course, but Su never mentioned her love for Keitaro after he had supposedly died four years ago.

Seeing the startled look in her eyes, Su continued, "Yes, I was hoping to marry Keitaro when I was old enough, but I knew he belonged to Naru, so I was content on playing the little sister. Still, when he died, it felt like all my happiness would go with him.

Haruka, regaining her composure, replied, "His passing deeply affected all of us Su, but the past is the past and we have to move on – it's what he would want for us."

Su made no response, but drank her tea silently. Haruka, uncomfortable with Su's sudden appearance on the 4th anniversary of Keitaro's death, drank her tea as well.

Finished with her tea, Su stood up and made ready to leave. Still grinning, Su then said, "I know Haruka, it's just hard to let go. I have to go now; the girls are waiting for me. Thank you for the tea." Su then opened her arms, inviting Haruka to a warm embrace. Haruka stood up and wrapped her arms around her former tenant and spoke, "I understand, it was good seeing…," her words lost to the sharp pain exploding from her side.

The sickening sound of a blade repeatedly piercing flesh could be heard throughout the empty tea house.

Haruka stepped back, wheeling from the pain. Her eyes lit up, as she reached down to touch the source of her agony – she felt something wet. It was blood. Her eyes darted from her blood covered hands to Su, mouthing the word: "Why?" Su's visage had darkened. Her eyes glinted with hatred, her brow furrowed with anticipation. She held the knife in her right hand, the blood dripping onto the floor. She then plunged the knife into Haruka's abdomen, piercing the liver. Haruka muffled her scream, as she collapsed onto the floor.

Hovering above her, Su began to speak in a cold and distant voice, "I know what you did Haruka. It was you who burned down the Hinata Apartments. You took away Keitaro and gave him to that whore. I couldn't believe it at first, but my Keitaro detector registered his life sign almost a year ago. At first, I thought it was a malfunction in the software, so I had the machine taken apart and put back together – bit by bit. I was surprised to see that the diagnostics checked out. The readings were correct – he's alive. It took me almost a year and a small fortune, but I found him Haruka."

Su then knelt down next to Haruka, lifting her head into her lap. Haruka could feel the blood escaping her body, the cold creeping in. Haruka tried to calm her mind, but she was losing to the confusion. Su's free hand began to gently probe Haruka's body. As her nimble fingers began to caress Haruka's face, Su then asked, "Did you know Motoko is carrying his child?" Haruka's eyes widen at the news.

She knew that Keitaro had woken up from his coma, but that was nearly a year ago. Haruka had yet to muster the courage to see her nephew and inform him of her terrible deed. She knew how much Motoko loved him and how attractive she had become. Still, Haruka could not believe that their relationship had progressed in such a short period of time.

Then fear gripped her soul.

Su saw this and whispered delicately into Haruka's ear, letting her tongue flicker around Haruka's earlobe, "Yes, Haruka. I'm going to kill her and that abomination in her womb. I'm going to set things right."

Haruka tried to speak, but the blood had seeped into her windpipe, constricting the passage of air. She hacked out crimson, but to no avail. All she could manage were short gasps, "No…Su…can't…hurt…baby."

Slowly leaning forward, Su kissed Haruka's forehead and gently placed her head onto the floor. She got up and meticulously cleaned her blade. Haruka tried to grab onto her leg, but Su easily pulled her off. Standing before her, Su spoke, "You won't have a clean death Haruka-san. Lie there and linger in your own festering guilt. Let your last thoughts be that of Motoko and her dead baby." And with those last words, Su left the Hinata Tea Shop, but not before leaving a c-note for the person who would have to clean up her mess in the tip jar.

"Man, what's keeping Su," Naru asked, trying to fight off a drunken Kitsune from fondling her breasts, "and what's gotten into you, you haven't acted like this in years."

It was true. After Keitaro's death, Kitsune's personality completely changed. Her life had become a strict regiment of discipline. Her caloric intake remained constant throughout the week; her exercise routine was adhered to religiously. She imbibed no alcohol, not even during formal functions. Kitsune was devoted to increasing her performance, both physically and mentally.

The Kitsune massaging Naru's ample mounds had been the fox of Hinata, not the Demon Bitch from Hell. "What could have changed her so much," Naru wondered, still battling Kitsune's lecherous hands. Hoping to call in reinforcements, Naru yelled out, "Help me Shinbu."

Unfortunately, Shinobu was lying on the floor in a drunken stupor, mumbling incoherently about cakes, naked, and Keitaro. The vein in Naru's forehead began to throb at the sight of her inebriated friends.

Suddenly, a bright light flooded the room, blinding Naru and Kitsune. "Crap, shut that fucking light off," growled Kitsune, letting lose her demon wrath. "What a potty mouth Mitsune," Su responded.

Naru, watching Su approached them, called out, "Hey, about time you showed up." Su ran up to her friend and swallowed her in a hug, and replied, "Sorry, there was something I had to take care of."

Kitsune, upon hearing Su's voice, straightened up. The sly arch of her eyebrow was replaced with a solemn expression that startled Naru. "Kitsune, what's wrong," Naru inquired. Su interjected, "Are we calling you Kitsune again? Good, it suits you." Su then turned her attention to Naru, then spoke once more, "Naru, there's something we have to tell you, but it's going to be difficult, so please sit down."

Naru felt the anxiety rise in her, though she didn't know why she was feeling so anxious around her friends. The jovial atmosphere in the room disappeared, replaced by heaviness in the air that Naru felt weighing her down.

Kitsune spoke with a sober tone, "Naru, there's no way of preparing you for this, so I'm just going to say it. Keitaro, he's alive."

At first, Naru didn't understand what her friend was trying to say to her, though the words were clear and plain. "Stop joking around Kitsune, that's not funny," Naru replied nervously.

Su jumped in, "It's no joke Naru. When Keitaro first came back to the house, I upgraded my Keitaro radar device so that it could tell me the moment he woke up. After the fire, I never thought about replacing the equipment, but I had a spare system back in Momol. About seven months ago, my sister Amalla contacted me. She told me that one of my machines was acting funny. When I went back home to see what the problem was, I discovered that my detector had located his life signs. I spent nearly a week examining the equipment to see if there was an anomaly that could account for the readings, but I found none."

Naru's heart began to quiver as Su continued on her story. She heard the words but couldn't register its meaning. "Keitaro's alive," she repeated to herself. The long dormant emotions began to surface.

"We found him, Naru," Kitsune said with a gentle smile. She knew it would be hard on her friend. Naru was the last of them to move on after Keitaro's supposed death. She had clung on to hope, while the other girls despaired. She stood by him, loving him even though the doctors said he was gone from them.

She had suffered day and night, and yet endured. Naru Narusegawa would not leave her love – only death could separate them. Death did separate them. For three years, Naru mourned Keitaro's passing. So deep was her devotion that Naru once thought of committing suicide – not to end her pain, but to be with her true love. But she could not betray his memory. Keitaro would want her to live and be happy, and for him, she would do what she could to live her life without him.

She enrolled in Kyoto University and graduated a full year early. After school, she opened her own tea shop in Kyoto, which is how she met Keisuke Myamoto, her husband. He owned the music store next door. They had known each other from their days in Kyoto University, but did not grow close until Naru opened her shop. A few months later, Naru was able to open up her heart again to a man who was as gentle and as kind as her true love had been. She was three months pregnant with their first child.

Naru placed her hand over her womb, feeling a sickness growing in her. "It's not true," Naru uttered in a pained voice, "It can't be." Her disbelief was fueled, not by the merit of their evidence, but of the terrible implications behind their words. Though she loved her husband and look forward to raising a family with him, there was always a doubt that gnawed at her. Today, her doubt was confirmed – she had once again betrayed her true love.

The tears began to cascade as the suffering of years past began to consume her. Kitsune and Su ran to Naru, huddling around her. They embraced her, trying to shield her from the misery of her own inner turmoil.

Shinobu slept through the whole ordeal, dreaming of her sempai's hands as they rubbed sun tan lotion across her naked body.

"Oh sempai," she cooed as the sound of weeping could be heard throughout the Tokyo night.


	9. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Funeral pyre **

Shirai was a portly fellow, and on the tad side of short. Though shunned by the pretty people of the world, Shirai held no contempt in his heart. He was content in life, unlike his friend Haitani, who always wanted to be more than he was and have more than he had.

The one thing Shirai desired was to be a good friend – loyalty meant a great deal to him. It was his father's way and it had become Shirai's. He was guided by the same words that had molded his father: "I am my brother's keeper." His father, a patrolman, died in the line of duty protecting his partner. As a boy, he knew those words came from the Christian Bible, but did not understand its true meaning until he stood in front of his father's grave. Holding tight to his mother's hand, his final words to his father was his vow to keep: "Yes Father, I am my brother's keeper."

So when Keitaro was clinging to life, Shirai wanted justice for his friend. He had no martial arts training and held no delusions that he could win a fight against the famed strength of Motoko Aoyama. However, Shirai was Keitaro's keeper and could not let his suffering go unanswered.

Three days after the incident, Shirai found himself in front of Motoko's hospital room. He had heard of Motoko's attempted suicide. It did not matter. She deserved death and he would deliver, but something inside him stayed his hand. Haruka found him, standing in front of Motoko's door. She could tell by the tension gripping his body that a fierce debate of the conscience was being waged within him. It was the same conflict that she struggled with.

Haruka reached out to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His eyes blazed open, meeting her gaze with an intensity that resonated with Haruka's own turbulent emotions. Nothing was said between the two, but through their eyes, an emotional connection was formed. Shirai released a single tear; his visage remained encased in stone. In his expression, she could see the same feeling of helplessness that haunted her – the same tortured feeling of letting down a loved one.

Haruka felt her defenses cracking as she peered into his soul. His pain mirrored her own, forcing her to feel the inner anguish wanting to break free. The tears that she had so arduously pushed back began to flow. She started to crumble, her knees buckling. Shirai reacted out of instinct and embraced her, propping her up. She broke down in his arms, letting loose the deluge of misery and suffering consuming her. They cried together, holding each other.

Shirai's desire for vengeance waned as Haruka's tears cleansed his heart of the hatred threatening to poison his soul. Haruka's despair lifted as she opened herself to the man she had always considered a boy. It was in this moment that the seeds of love were sown.

The memory of that day and the wild passion of that night as she took him in her bed with a fierceness that had earned her the nickname – lioness – flooded her fading consciousness.

Haruka knew she was dying. There was just too much blood loss, too much damage for her to be saved. There would be no last minute rescue or miracle. She was no Keitaro. "Soon my love," she whispered, "we'll be together." But she had one task left to her. With the last remnants of her considerable strength, she dragged her exhausted body up to her room on the second floor, leaving behind a gruesome trail of dark crimson. She grunted in pain, willing herself to live until she was done. Her breathing deteriorated into desperate gasps for air as she reached her desk. Her left arm was no longer following her commands, her body nearly broken. She screamed, breaking the stillness, "Not yet, god dammit!" With the last bit of her strength, she willed her right arm to reach underneath the desk and grabbed a small envelope taped underneath.

As her fingers closed on her prize, she collapsed unto the floor. Death was near. Haruka had just one more task left. She needed to warn Keitaro. Summoning up an impossible strength, Haruka dipped her finger into her lacerated mid-section, wincing at the pain, and drew three circles onto the floor next to her.

"Shirai," she said with her last breath, feeling the darkness taking hold.

"Hey there, Haruka, missed me," Shirai whispered into her ear. Haruka wanted to turn around, but Shirai had embraced her from behind, snuggling his face into the side of her neck. She let out a purr as his hands slowly found its way onto her heaving chest. "I love you Shirai, promise me you'll never leave me again," Haruka said in a demure voice. "Never again, my love, I'll be with you now and forever," Shirai replied, taking her lips with his own.

A shiver ran up Sakura's spine as she entered the tea shop. She called out, "Haruka, you here?" There was no reply. Terror gripped the young waitress as she saw the pool of blood on the floor. She wanted to scream, but saw the trail of blood leading to the back room. "Haruka," she yelled out again, this time in a desperate cry. She hurried to the back room, but found that the trail led upstairs into her apartment. Desperately trying to keep the panic at bay, Sakura reminded herself of what Haruka would say in a situation like this: "Panic and people die. Keep calm and people live."

There were no pearls of wisdom for Sakura that could prepare her for the sight that befell her. She screamed as she saw Haruka's body lying in a pool of blood, her hand clutching tightly on something white.

It was the envelope that brought Sakura out of her sudden slide into madness. She recognized the embroidered envelope as something Haruka once showed her. The memory came to her in a flash. "If anything should happen to me, I want you read this letter, do you understand Sakura," Haruka told her friend and employee with a solemn voice.

Gathering her courage, Sakura walked over to Haruka's body. Taking a deep breath, she pried the letter from Haruka's hand. She shuddered at the touch. It felt cold – lifeless. Sakura's tears splashed down on Haruka's body. The fear was gone now, only the deep sense of loss remained for the young girl.

It was then that Sakura noticed the three circles drawn in Haruka's own blood right next to the body. Though not understanding the full importance of this clue, she knew that Haruka was trying to tell her something – something about her killer. Thoughts of the murderer reminded Sakura of the letter in her hand.

Hesitant at first, she eventually found the strength to tear open the envelope. In it, she found a letter and a key. Pocketing the key, she started to read out loud: "Sakura, if you are reading this letter, it means that what I have long feared has come to pass and that I am dead. You are my final hope for redemption Sakura. I am sorry to place such a heavy burden on your shoulders, but I have no other recourse. I can only hope that you will forgive me one day for the woe I may cause you. You see Sakura, if I am dead it means that my sins have been uncovered – the truth has been revealed."

Her murderer, according to Hakura, must have learned of the truth behind the Hinata fire and the supposed death of its former manger. "No, it can't be," said Sakura, her voice barely above audible. She reread the line, trying to grapple with the terrible truth – Keitaro was still alive. Sakura read on, learning of Motoko's role in the affair and of Haruka's decision to send him to America for an experimental treatment that could have killed him. Sakura was trembling, overwhelmed by the truth.

This letter – it was Haruka's final confession. She had deliberately taken Keitaro away from those who loved him through guile and manipulation. She burned down their home – the Hinata apartments – and with it, her family's legacy.

Haruka had accepted death as the penalty for her crimes, but did not want the same fate to befall Motoko and Keitaro. She wanted Sakura to save them, because the killing would not end with Haruka's death – she was sure of that.

The murderer would seek to end Motoko, and possilby Keitaro.

It was this revelation that filled Sakura with a sense of foreboding.

She read on: "Go directly to Motoko and tell her everything, but under no circumstances do you disclose anything else to anyone. Burn this letter Sakura. Do not even mention it in passing. Who ever came for me was someone close to Keitaro, which means it could be anyone. Trust no one Sakura."

Sakura wanted to collapse onto the floor and give in to her exhaustion. She wanted to shut down and be done with this whole sordid affair, but she would not. Hakura was more than her boss; she was her friend and mentor. Someone had taken Haruka's life, and she would not just let that pass. Turning the letter over, she read the careful instructions that Haruka left for her.

"In the storeroom, on the far wall, there's a metal box hidden in the drywall. Let the clown point the way."

"What the hell does that mean," Sakura thought to herself. She went to the storeroom, but could not see anything that resembled a clown. She feverishly scrutinized the room, trying to find the elusive marker. Pounding the wall in frustration, she was about to take a sledgehammer to it when she noticed a thin shaped shadow touching the wall. She turned around to see the source and found a cut-out picture of Kitsune in a bikini.

Kitsune had it made when she was working for Haruka, thinking it would increase sales. Sales increased, but so did the old geezer quotient. Haruka squashed the whole "marketing campaign" after only one day. Sakura eyed the cut-out, and noticed that Kitsune was pointing her finger at something. Her eyes traced the direction of Kitsune's finger, which led to a section of the wall that looked no different from the rest. It was only after she tapped the wall did she noticed the differences – it rang hollow. With a mighty punch, she broke a hole through the wall, revealing a large steel briefcase.

"Eureka," shouted Sakura as she pulled out the case and laid it on the table. Her eyes widen as she unlocked it with her key. Inside were stacks of U.S. dollars, fake Japanese passports for herself, Motoko, and Keitaro, another letter, and a gun. It was the gun that had knocked the wind out of Sakura's lungs. Haruka had taught her how to use a variety of firearms, but thought it was nothing more Haruka trying to teach her a new hobby. Now she realized that Haruka was training her, preparing her for her current mission. Sakura chuckled to herself. Even from the grave, Haruka still surprised the hell out of her.

Breathing in slowly, Sakura closed the briefcase and walked to the phone. She first called a travel agent to arrange the quickest flight to America. Then she called for a taxi. "Come quickly please, I have a flight to catch," Sakura uttered into the phone. When the taxi arrived, Sakura locked the door to the Hinata Tea House and walked away. She took one final glance at her second home, knowing that it would be the last time she would ever lay eyes on it.

As the taxi sped along the highway, the driver spied through his rear view mirror a pillar of smoke rising from Hinata Springs. "I wonder where that smoke is coming from," inquired the old man driving the taxi. "I guess something's on fire," Sakura replied, looking at the passing scenery.

The inferno raged throughout the teashop, setting everything ablaze. Upstairs in the bedroom, lay Haruka on her bed, covered in a white sheet. In her right hand was the picture of her and Shirai, kissing under the cherry trees during their only New Year's celebration together.

In Haruka's other hand was the letter, where the last line of her instructions read: "Burn it all."


	10. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: A promise renewed**

Seven months ago, he came to her.

Keitaro had been moody all day, avoiding contact with her. Motoko racked her brain, trying to decipher his enigmatic behavior. Did she offend him? Was she being too forward? Was he feeling guilty about their time together? They had been intimate, but had yet fully expressed themselves physically. Could he still be in love with Naru? This above all her other doubts affected Motoko the most – it was the one doubt she knew to be true.

Motoko sat on the edge of her bed touching her lips, her ecstasy still lingering from his kiss. A week had past since that wonderful night. His hands had touched her – a lover's touch. She reveled in his warmth, his scent. Motoko had never known such intimacy before. She confessed her love and he did not reject it. Did Keitaro return her love? He never said the words, but he stayed with her – it was all that she needed.

For a week, she lived elated in love's embrace. They held hands, shared passionate kisses, and lived happily. However, today was different. He recoiled from her touch and gave no explanation. The few words he spoke to her were terse, devoid of the warmth they once carried. Motoko descended into misery as old wounds reopened.

She began to tremble, the self-loathing resurfacing from its dormancy. She must have done something to Keitaro. Her eyes gazed down on her scars. No, he finally realized how disgusting she was to look at.

Distracted by old demons, Motoko did not realize that her body was moving towards her dresser – a hidden urge taking over. She opened the drawer and pulled out her tanto, buried underneath her clothes. She unsheathed the blade, its luminous surface reflecting her tortured eyes.

Her body ached for the release that the blade promised her. Her hands shook, a testament of the battle waging within her. It had been years since she allowed any blade to touch her skin. The knife edged slowly towards her bare flesh. Suddenly, the door to her room burst opened – Keitaro stood in the doorway, seething in rage. He charged towards her, knocking the blade from her hand. Motoko, stunned by his appearance, stood with her mouth gaping. No words were exchanged, only the silence remained.

He grabbed her arm violently, nearly ripping it from the shoulder. She let out a strained cry as pain rippled from his grip. He barked, "What the hell were you thinking?" Motoko tried to say the words, but fear tore through her. She stuttered incoherently, further enraging Keitaro. His eyes blazed with a fury that drove Motoko to the brink of madness. She broke down, bawling into his arms.

His fingers enclosed around the back of her neck. She could feel his grip tightening, his anger apparent. Keitaro's rage had not subsided, but intensified as Motoko's tears flowed unabated.

It seemed like eons had passed, before his grip on her slackened, his anger waning. Keitaro embraced her, holding Motoko close to him. His hand massaged her neck gently, his fingers intertwining with her sinewy hair, soothing her weary soul. Motoko stood taller than Keitaro, but in this moment, she seemed so small to him – fragile as porcelain. Her head buried into his left shoulder, her long black hair shrouded over him like a cloak. He whispered into her ear, "Motoko, I'm sorry for hurting you today. None of it was your fault. I just had some things on my mind, please forgive me." Motoko could only nod her head in response, the emotions still turbulent within her.

Keitaro then grabbed her by the shoulders and gently extricated her from him. He wanted to look into her eyes, but she turned away, too afraid to look at him directly. His hand reached under her chin, and tenderly led her face to his. Keitaro's heart nearly broke at Motoko's dejected appearance.

He still thought of her as the stoic warrior from his memories, but he reminded himself that was years ago. Motoko had suffered terribly and made herself vulnerable to him. The implications were not lost on Keitaro. He was responsible for her – for all of it. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

Withdrawing from her, he took a deep breath then exhaled. He looked into her eyes, and spoke, "Promise me, Motoko. Promise me that you won't try to hurt yourself again," his words were shaking at this point, "I can't lose you, understand?" Motoko's demons were put to rest by his words. Wiping the last vestige of tears from her eyes, she replied in a hushed voice, "I promise Keitaro."

They melted into each other's arms. Motoko could feel the warmth returning – "this is love," she thought. Keitaro's mind had also reached a decision: "This is where I belong."

What came next was rapture.

The ebb and flow of Motoko's raw emotions kindled a burning desire that ached for release. She had lost him once before, Motoko was determined not lose him again. She led Keitaro to her bed, drawing him closer to her. They kissed, giving form to the deep longing within them.

Motoko blushed at the memory of their first union. She remembered the pain of losing her virginity to him, the sight of her blood still salient in her thoughts. The pain, however, gave way to a new feeling – a deep yearning finally quenched. Her blush became a furious red as the images of his "actions" flooded her memories.

A month later they were married. It was a civil ceremony attended by only a few of the friends that Motoko had made during her time teaching at the local college. Still, it was the happiest day of her life. She was married to her one true love and would be the mother of his child.

Now, in her final trimester, Motoko Urishima awaited the arrival of their son – though how the doctor could tell from the swirls of distortions from the ultrasound escaped her understanding. Today was her last day teaching. She needed to prepare for the baby's arrival, but regretted leaving her position. Over the years, Motoko grew to love her work. It made her feel more complete than her days as a dedicated swordswoman. As a warrior, she could protect lives, but as a teacher, she was shaping lives. It was a good life for Motoko, here with Keitaro. She looked over to the clock on the wall, noticing that her husband should be arriving soon with her lunch.

She returned to her desk, relieving her swollen ankles from the excess weight she had to carry. Though she enjoyed the prospects of motherhood, Motoko was utterly dismayed of how her body was affected by the pregnancy. Looking in the mirror each morning was a constant battle for Motoko. Her once taut and lean body had been replaced by a swelling, bulbous entity prone to morning sickness and mood swings.

Still, Keitaro never made her feel anything less than beautiful. He was always there for her. He held back her hair during those awful mornings in the bathroom. He massaged her feet and ankles every day with fragrant oils and a caring smile. This and a multitude of other tiny pleasures he gave to her.

And the sex was great – though she would never make such an overt comment.

As Motoko graded the last of her students' quizzes, her mind drifted back to the memories of Keitaro and their encounters – the term she used to refer to their love making. She blushed at her raging carnal desires. Thinking to herself, "Oh my god, I am a pervert."

"Are you feeling sick Motoko," Keitaro asked. Startled, Motoko acted out of instinct. Before she realized what was happening, the eraser she held in her hand was soaring through the air, straight for Keitaro's forehead.

Though forsaking the sword, Motoko's considerable fighting abilities had not faded away. Keitaro let out a yelp as the eraser impacted, leaving behind a red welt. Motoko giggled at the sight of her husband's confused expression. Composing herself, she replied, "I am sorry husband, I was just startled." Remembering his first question, Motoko nervously added, "And I am not ill, it's just hot flashes from the pregnancy."

Keitaro smiled in response. Though only married for a few months, he could already tell when his wife was lying to him. "Really, I could have sworn that you were thinking of something perverted just then," Keitaro said with an innocent smile. Motoko's blush deepened as the truth was revealed. Though deeply in love, Motoko was still a modest woman who did not enjoy voicing such things in a public place.

"Oh Joy," his mind screamed. He loved teasing her. It reminded him of a boy poking a tiger with a stick – and surviving to tell the tale. He walked closer to her in the most casual manner he could muster. Then with a cherubic expression, he continued, "Yes, I do believe you were thinking of something very explicit. Perhaps, you were recollecting something? Let me see, were you thinking of that time in the park, or perhaps when we were in that movie theatre? Wait, I got it! I seem to recall this desk and something about you being the overbearing teacher and I the lowly class delinquent…"

Motoko's face became brighter and redder – the heat of which could peel paint off of walls – as Keitaro continued his little stroll down memory lane. Her anger was only eclipsed by the arousal she was feeling as the memories of their indiscrete encounters popped into her consciousness.

Motoko was about to interject when she began to feel a sharp pain from her womb. Startled by these sensations, she leaned over in her chair. Suddenly, she felt warm liquid dribbling down her inner thighs. Keitaro saw the concern take hold of Motoko's expression. "What's wrong Motoko," he asked. Motoko, reaching for his hand, replied, "I think my water broke."

Eight thousand miles away, a private Su-Tech jet was soaring above the Pacific, destination: Newark-Liberty International Airport. Naru gazed out her window, knowing somewhere out there was Keitaro - alive and well. She felt someone's hand clasping her own. She turned from her window and saw Kitsune sitting next to her, a warm smile telling her that she was not alone.

Six years have passed since Naru last spoke to Keitaro - those words forever engraved into her soul. The tears rained down. The last thing Keitaro heard from her were words drenched in malice and distrust. How could she ever be forgiven for doubting the man she loved – the man she had never stopped loving.

Naru's knuckled turned white as she squeezed Kitsune's hand, overwhelmed by the maelstrom of emotions she was feeling. Kitsune bit her bottom lip, trying to mask the pain. For Naru, Kitsune could bear her friend's suffering, if for a little while. As Naru wept, Shinobu sat quietly in the back of the airliner.

Her thoughts were focused, her emotions kept in check. Shinobu had spent years honing both her mind and body, trying to reclaim the initiative to live after Keitaro's accident. He nearly died because of her. The guilt of her role in Keitaro's tragedy hung over her like the sword of Damocles. She knew that she deserved death, but not yet. She needed to live to fulfill the vows she made. She needed to live long enough to see Motoko again.

Shinobu saw Motoko that night – the night she slit her wrists. After being brought to the hospital, Shinobu woke up from her nightmare, finding herself lying in a strange bed, dressed in a hospital gown. She left the confines of her room, escaping the notice of the nurses, and headed towards the familiar sounds of women crying. As Shinobu entered the waiting room, she spied Haruka rusing out of the bathroom, her face showing signs of panic. Morbid curiosity took hold of her. She went in and noticed the pool of blood. She was startled to see Motoko on the floor, drenched in liquid crimson.

Realization came in one fell swoop. The nightmare she had was real. Motoko did attack Keitaro. The women she heard crying was the other residents. They were in the same hospital that Keitaro was dying in.

Rage filled the tiny frame of Shinobu Maehara – a rage long repressed by years of rejection and self-loathing. It was only Haruka's reentry that had stopped her from doing what was most obvious to her – killing Motoko.

Though her mind remained shattered much of the first two years after Keitaro's tragedy, Shinobu slowly crawled her way back to the living. She had a promise to keep to her sempai. She was going to make it into Tokyo University and live her life, but she also had another promise to fulfill. A promise she made as she saw the blood drain from Motoko's body. It was the power of her promises that propelled her forward. She trained in the same discipline that gave her enemy strength, under the tutelage of the Aoyama elder. She developed her cunning and guile with the aid of the Urishima School of martial arts, under the mentorship of its master – Kanako Urishima. She sacrificed much, endured even more, to achieve her goals.

Shinobu had gotten into Tokyo University. Now fate had given her the chance to go to the man she loved and tell him that she had kept her promise to him. Looking out the window of the airliner, Shinobu reminded herself that she had one more promise to keep. Renewing the old vow, Shinobu whispered, "I'll make her pay for what she did to you Keitaro, this I swear."


	11. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Truth or lies, lies **

"It's too soon," Motoko cried out, her arms instinctively protecting her womb. Keitaro's mind was racing, his anxiety rising exponentially. He ran over the events of the past few minutes in his head. Ten minutes ago, he was flirting with his very beautiful and alluring wife. Then her water broke. Motoko was calm and composed, contrasting Keitaro's near panic reaction at the sight of the viscous fluid dribbling down her thighs. "Keitaro, help me to the car," she calmly ordered. Luckily, he had parked just outside of the building, so the journey was short. As they made their way through the building, Motoko kept a smile on her face, hiding her anxiety. She didn't want her husband to worry needlessly, but she could not hide the immutable fact that her baby was coming two months premature. He managed to get her to the car, before the labor pains struck Motoko.

It felt like someone had stabbed her in the gut. She cried out in agony as the debilitating pain shot throughout her body. Keitaro caught her as she nearly collapsed onto the unforgiving concrete below. With one fluid movement, Keitaro lifted her up into his arms and hastily carried her to the car. Her arms lassoed around his neck, tightening as the pain coursed through her again. She bit into his shoulder, muffling her scream. "Something's wrong," thought Motoko, "I shouldn't be in this much pain."

Keitaro had a similar thought as he gently placed her in the back, using his jacket as a cushion for her. In a blink of an eye, Keitaro was in the driver's seat. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped towards the hospital. "Something's wrong with the baby," Motoko cried out, her face contorted in pain. Keitaro's foot stomped on the accelerator in response. "God, please help them," Keitaro prayed silently as he managed to swerve in and out of traffic without colliding into the other cars on the road.

The pain was wreaking havoc on Motoko's mind. She felt like her baby was being punished for her past – the crimes of the mother visited upon the son. She pleaded to an invisible power for mercy, shouting, "God please don't take my baby from me!"

Keitaro reached out behind him to find Motoko's hand, using his sense of touch to guide him. When he felt her cold, trembling fingers, he enveloped his hand over them. Summoning his strength, Keitaro spoke with a voice brimming with faith, "I won't let anything happen to you and our baby Motoko. I promise."

The sound of her husband's voice pierced the veil of confusion and misery that had befallen her. She broke from her spiraling descent and reached for his hand, gripping it with all her might. Keitaro winced as he felt his wife's tremendous power pouring into her grip. "We'll get through this my love," Keitaro spoke again, reassuring his crying wife. The hospital was only a few miles away, but to Keitaro, it was not close enough. "Only a few more minutes," he thought to himself.

His eyes widened as he felt her hold on his hand slackened. He turned his head and cried out Motoko's name. The color had drained from her face, leaving behind a ghastly paleness that stabbed into Keitaro's heart. Turning his attention back onto the road, he floored the accelerator and drove along the shoulder of the road, leaving behind rows of angry motorists honking their horns.

"Hang on Motoko," he yelled, eying her from the rear view mirror. Motoko had stopped crying out in pain. Instead, she looked disoriented. Her eyelids began to droop. The hospital was coming into view. Keitaro's heart dropped as he saw the unmoving rows of cars in the traffick jam ahead. He had only a few seconds before the shoulder came to an end. Seeing that the center divider was only a few inches off the curb, Keitaro veered the car left. The car hit the divider with incredible force, blowing out the front left tire. Motoko yelped as her body was sent a few inches above the seat, before crashing back down.

Keitaro had spied a narrow path between the car lane and the other side of the divider, enabling him to drive past the traffic and into the emergency room drive way. The sound of metal grinding pavement alerted a nurse loitering about the entrance. Rebecca was on her break. She was waiting for her doctor boyfriend at the entrance of the emergency room to get some lunch when she heard a piercing screeching sound. She turned towards the source of the sound and nearly doubled over as a car was barreling towards her.

Keitaro slammed hard on the brakes, forcing the car to skid across the pavement. Rebecca could smell the pungent order of burnt rubber as the car careened into the curb, stopping mere inches from her. Keitaro leapt out of the car and screamed to the nurse, "I need doctors, my wife's in labor." He then flung the backdoor of the car open, but paused at the scene before him.

Rebecca, shaken by the entire ordeal, saw Keitaro's shocked expression. Her training took hold of her. She rushed to him and gasped at what she saw. A young Asian woman was lying in the back seat, unconscious. She was pregnant. It was the blood that gave Rebecca pause. Motoko was bleeding from her womb, creating a small pool of blood underneath her legs. Snapping out of her daze, she looked to the husband. She called out, "I need you to carry her to the ER right now, got that?" Keitaro, recovering from his momentary catatonic state, nodded his head. He reached over and pulled Motoko from the car. He could feel the blood seeping into his clothes as he rushed her through the doors. An orderly met them with a stretcher.

The next few seconds became a blur to Keitaro. Motoko was taken from him by several people, some wearing white coats, others were donned in hospital scrubs. He wanted to follow them, but the same nurse that had helped him outside stopped him.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't go in there. The doctors are going to perform an emergency operation and you'll just contaminate the operating room," the nurse calmly informed Keitaro. His eyes began to blaze with rage. He shouted, "That is my wife in there!" The nurse, her gaze unflinching, spoke with a firm and motherly voice, "Your wife needs you to remain calm sir. There's been a complication in the pregnancy. The doctors here are the best. They'll help your wife and your baby, but they can't do their job if you're in there disturbing them. I know it's difficult, but you have to wait here until it's finished."

English had always been a dreadful subject for Keitaro, but living in America for the past year had allowed him to grow skillfully in the language. Still, many of the nurse's words remain alien to him. It was her voice that drew him to his senses.

Rebecca's heart broke as she saw the man before her slump to the ground, his hands hiding the tears streaming down his face. She was a professional and emotional attachment would only hinder her performance as a nurse. But she was also human. She stayed with him until he was able to stand on his own two feet.

The operating room broke into a cacophony of sounds. The monitors were wailing its high-pitch alarm as Keitaro's wife lay unconscious on the table. The medical team broke out into a flurry of activities, plugging Motoko's body with tubes and syringes. The doctor on scene barked orders, barraging the nurses in attendance with instructions. "We're losing her," a nurse spoke out. "The baby's heart rate is dropping," another nurse added. The doctor grimaced as he surveyed the scene.

"Get the baby out, then save the woman," he thought as he cut into Motoko's flesh with his scalpel. "Get someone from the neo-natal unit in here stat," ordered the doctor, "we got a premee, here." Minutes later, a young nurse was pushing a cart containing a glass enclosure on it. On a tray, doctors and nurses were examining a baby boy. He was small, not much taller than the length of a forearm. His skin seemed translucent as some of his veins were visible. A nurse carefully placed him in the glass enclosure, and then attached sensors to his body to monitor his vitals. As the nurse shut the case, a high-pitch wail filled the room. "She's flat lining doctor," a nurse yelled out. Cursing under his breath, the doctor looked up into the monitor and saw that Motoko's heart had stopped beating. "Get the crash cart," he ordered, as he began chest compressions.

"Don't you die on me lady," said the doctor.

The sight of other families lying in wait, somber and in tears, gnawed at Keitaro's soul. Like him, they were waiting for a loved one. Unlike them, he was alone. He could feel the oppressive presence of sickness and death weigh heavily in the room. Without protest, he left. He wandered the endless hospital corridors, struggling to find a break from the perpetual stillness. Keitaro read the signs on the doors he came across.

Radiology

Bookkeeping

Chapel

Keitaro paused as he passed the hospital chapel. As a child, he was raised in the Christian faith of his mother, as well as the Shinto traditions of his father, but never took to religion. It was all just names and funny practices to him. The chapel was small. It had two rows of pews. The walls were decorated with non-religious stained glass artistry. A lone light hovering above the center podium lit the room. Keitaro slowly made his way to the podium. There he found three large books. One was the Torah, and another was the Koran. The final book, the largest of the three, was the bible. He thumbed through the book, reading a passage or two as he skimmed along. The word death caught his attention. Setting the book down, he began to read from that passage out loud.

"Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."

He knew this passage from his early days in Sunday school – a time when his mother had insisted upon her son's Christian education. Struggling to remember those days, he knelt down on the ground and clasped his hands together. He hoped that God knew Japanese.

"God, please, don't take them away from me," he pleaded silently, hoping his prayer would be heard.

As he continued his silent vigil, a young girl emerged from the shadows behind him. Her hand slowly reached out towards him, quivering with anticipation for contact. Barely an inch from his shoulder, the hand quickly withdrew back into the shadows, when Keitaro uttered the words, "I love you Motoko, please don't leave me."

She ran from him, her long blonde tresses trailing behind her. She streaked down the endless corridors. Tears emerged from her eyes as she ran past her father. Concerned for his daughter's well-being, he called out her name. "Sarah," he yelled out.

The distressed teenager turned to her father, piercing his soul with her gaze. Sarah McDougal, Seta's adopted daughter, stared down her father with eyes brimming with the malice and betrayal that had infected her heart. An hour earlier, she had overheard a message he left for Haruka, a name she had not heard in nearly three years. At first, she was overjoyed, thinking that perhaps her father and Haruka had finally buried the past between them and decided to renew their friendship. She loved Haruka and missed her dearly, but she could not deny her father's pain. Haruka had fallen in love with another man, breaking Seta's heart. If it were not for Mutsumi, Seta would have never have been able to escape his despair.

What Sarah heard, however, nearly devastated her. "Haruka, it's Seta. We need to talk, and I mean right now. I just saw Keitaro here in America. I want answers Haruka. Call me back, you know the number," Seta said into the phone.

"Keitaro's alive?" Sarah wondered aloud, "it can't be." She ran up to her father, surprising him. "Hey there kiddo, what's new?" he asked. "Is it true poppa, is Keitaro alive?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking. The carefree look drained form his face, replacing it with a somberness that Sarah had rarely seen in her father. "So you overheard," he replied. Sarah grabbed Seta's jacked with both hands, and pulled him closer to her. She looked into his eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Is he alive," she demanded to know.

Seta, his countenance remaining the same, responded, "Yes Sarah, Keitaro is alive." Sarah stumbled backwards, acting as if she had been struck in the belly with a baseball bat. She could not believe what her father was saying. Within Sarah's heart, emotions long dormant began to stir. At age ten, Sarah McDougal had fallen in love with Keitaro Urishima, but never revealed her secret to anyone.

He was a loser and a dork, but he was also caring and compassionate. He was there for her when her flesh and blood had abandoned her. He had given her a place to call home and her best friends – more than anything Seta had ever provided her. It was Keitaro who taught her that family was more than just lineage and genetics – family was love, regardless.

Struggling with these emotions, Sarah reacted in the only way her immature mind knew how to – through overt aggression. She would gleefully attack him – a love letter from a ten year old. She scoffed at the gift he gave her for Christmas, but in secret, it became her most prized possession. Even at 17, Sarah had never let go of the ceremonial clay mask that she had used to bat him with. It hung proudly in her college dorm room, much to the chagrin of her roommate.

Her silent reverie was broken when Seta spoke again. "Motoko's here to," said Seta. Sarah turned to her father and demanded to know where the "bitch" was. For years, Sarah had hated Motoko. She hated her for making her feel so useless and incompetent for failing to protect Keitaro all those years ago. It was Motoko who caused all the pain that her friends and father had to endure. She was too young back then to seek proper vengeance, but she was not a child anymore. Sarah had grown up. She was a master of several styles of martial arts, even surpassing her father's incredible fighting prowess.

"Where is she?" she demanded again. Seta, seeing the rage in his daughter, placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. She would have none of it. Sarah slapped his hand away and yelled out, "Dammit, tell me where she is!"

Seta stepped back, wheeling at her actions. Sarah had never once yelled, let alone raised an angry hand at her father. Realizing what she had just done, Sarah ran to him, embracing him. She pleaded, "I'm sorry poppa, please forgive me, I didn't mean it." She began to cry into his chest. Seta enveloped his daughter with his arms, gently petting the back of her head. "It's okay Sarah, there's nothing to forgive," he said softly. Then after giving Sarah some time to rein in her emotions, Seta spoke out, "Motoko is with Keitaro, Sarah. They're married, so please, don't do anything rash."

"No, you're lying," Sarah screamed as she violently pulled herself away from her father. "It's the truth Sarah," Seta reassured her. Before Sarah could voice her protest, her attention was diverted to the sound of a woman screaming in agony. Both Seta and Sarah looked towards the source of the screaming when they saw Keitaro in the distance – carrying a very pregnant Motoko in his arms.

Sarah stood there gaping. There in the distance was the supposed dead Keitaro, but perhaps even more unnerving was that he was carrying Motoko – the one responsible for the nightmare that had nearly ruined the lives all those who lived in the Hinata Apartments.

She yelled out, "Keitaro," but he had already sped away in his car. Sarah, without looking back, ran to her motorcycle parked across the street from her. Seta called out to her, imploring her to wait for him, but she would not stop for him or for anyone for that matter.

She had to see him and find out the truth, which she did. Keitaro had fallen in love with the demon. She stood in the hallway, the fury burning inside of her. Seta approached her cautiously, much like a person approaching an injured animal. He reached out his hand, placing it gently on her shoulder. When there was no resistance, Setat proceeded forward, embracing his daughter.

At first, Sarah stood still, her body taut with rage. "How could he love her?" she asked, trembling as she spoke, "How could he love her after what she's done to him?" Seta, still holding onto his precious daughter, could only reply, "He's Keitaro." Sarah broke down at these words, melting into her father's embrace.

Keitaro would forgive his friends – no matter the offense. It was who he was – one of the many reasons why the girls were all in love with him. "Hey kiddo, let's go get some coffee. We'll talk about our next step together, okay?" asked Seta. Sarah, trying to choke back the tears, nodded her head in response.


	12. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: **

"How is she doing Doctor?" asked Rebecca. The doctor, a young Afghan man named Joseph Singh, did not respond. Rebecca's right eyebrow arched at the cold treatment. Continuing to ignore the now enraged, but composed, nurse, Singh began his examination. His deft hands probed and measured Motoko's glands and musculature, searching for any signs of disease or injury. From her muscle tone, Singh calculated the amount of force her limbs could generate. "Extraordinaire," he remarked, "how could she be so strong."

Still puzzled by the apparent strength of the sleeping patient, he lifted the chart hanging off her bed and began ruffling through her test results. A stray cough caught his attention. He looked up only to find Rebecca's grim visage. Her furrowed brow told him that his life was in danger: death by evisceration. It was only her strict adherence to professionalism that saved him from a tragic death, but not the terrible fate that awaited him at home. She was telegraphing the message loud and clear: You're sleeping on the couch forever mister!

Singh whipped his head back into the chart, hoping that if he remained still, the predator before him wouldn't be able to see him. Rebecca began tapping the metal railing of the bed, trying to coax the reticent doctor to finish his prognosis. "Then he's mine," she laughed maniacally in her mind. By happenstance, her gaze fell on to the young Asian woman lying beneath her. The sight gave her pause. Her skin was flat and had a sick pallor color, while her silken black hair was a tangled mess, covered in an oily sheen. Yet despite all these flaws, the young mother's beauty was undeniable. Motoko's sharp, but delicate features resonated with poise and grace far above any model or actress – she was elegance personified.

"She's going to be fine," Singh finally spoke, breaking Rebecca from her contemplation. Rebecca let out a breath, "That's great, I'm sure her husband would be relived to hear the good news." Singh nodded his head in response, prying his eyes away from Rebecca's ample bosoms, hoping that she hadn't notice his indiscretion. She hadn't.

"Want to grab some coffee," he asked, putting away his stethoscope. Rebecca looked up and peered into his deep amber-colored eyes. She smirked, "My, My, Doctor, do you think I'd forgive you that easily." He smiled nervously. Before they began dating, he thought Rebecca was the kindest, sweetest person that he had ever met. It was only afterwards, after they had become a couple, did he realize that he was merely the victim of a bewitching siren. He couldn't be happier.

"Fine, I'll let you off the hook, but just this once," cooed the playful nurse, "but I have to go and find her husband first, Okay?" Singh just nodded affirmatively; glad that he had survived the day with his manhood intact. Rebecca, smiling, took his hand and led him gently out of the room, leaving behind Motoko – and her guest.

Stepping out from the bathroom where she hid, Sarah walked over to the bed. Her head hung low, hidden by shadow as the dim light above showered down on her young supple body. In her right hand held a scalpel that she had pilfered from one of the surgical trays that she found in the nurses' station.

"Remember me Motoko," Sarah whispered into her ear, "you should. You did take my happiness from me." If Motoko had been awake, she would have felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. The young American slowly rounded the bed, her hand gently tracing along the contours of Motoko's body. It had been almost six years since she had last seen Motoko, and much to her dismay, her enemy had grown even more beautiful in the time that had passed.

"I can understand why he fell in love with you. Even after giving birth and almost dying, you're still picture perfect," Sarah mused, "you could even say I'm a little jealous."

The old emotions began to reemerge, threatening to engulf the teenager. Rekindled by ancient feelings, memories of her childhood began to emerge from the brink. She had always been a lonely child. Her mother had died when she was only two, far too young to remember the angel that she was. Her father on the other hand, she remembered vividly. After her mother's death, she was sent to live with him in California. He had been far too concerned with his own petty affairs to raise his daughter properly. The only attention he paid to her was at the end of a switch – the discipline of the rod as he was so fond of calling it.

It was Seta who rescued Sarah from her living hell. Seta had heard the rumors and decided that hearsay was enough proof for him to act. He came to her one night and whisked Sarah away, leaving behind her father – who was desperately in need of medical attention. Though hardly father material himself, his incompetence stemmed from immaturity, not violence – a world of difference to a nine year old girl. She was happy with Seta, but his life was lonely to her. He traveled the world to new and exciting places, digging up ancient artifacts, giving her little time to acclimate to her new surroundings or form relationships with anyone.

She had no complaints though; Sarah's limited experience with true happiness dulled her to the ache in her heart – that was until she met Keitaro.

He was a doofus and a loser, so unlike her new papa. But it would be Keitaro that would prove to be the father that she had always hoped to have and not Seta. He gave her a home and there, she had found the joy of friendship. Though far too young to understand love in all its many trappings, she had hoped that Keitaro would be with her forever – she just wouldn't admit it openly.

And she never would, thanks in part to Motoko.

Sarah's eyes blazed open with fury, her gaze falling onto the object of her hate.

Her right hand flew to Motoko's throat, but stopped just before making contact. Sarah paused for a moment, trying to rein in her emotions. Gradually, her anger diffused into the entropy. Her trembling hand grew still. She slowly reached out until her fingertips pressed against the soft flesh of Motoko's neck. She began to caress its length, feeling the smoothness of her skin. "It's no secret that I want you dead Motoko for all the crap you put us through," Sarah spoke, her voice calm and even. Like an Anaconda going in for the kill, Sarah's fingers coiled around Motoko's throat. "It would be so easy just to squeeze," she whispered, reveling in the feeling of power she was experiencing.

And just as quickly, Sarah drew back her hand. "But then again, I do have this little knife here, don't I," she said, winking at the unconscious Motoko, "Oh the fun I could have with you right now." She slid the edge of the scalpel along the side of Motoko's face, light enough to avoid drawing blood. "Make you not so pretty. Maybe Keitaro would leave you," she giggled, but paused as the words she had just uttered reverberated through her mind.

She slowly withdrew the blade and stepped back from Motoko, her head drooping, allowing her golden tresses to cascade down – shrouding her face from view. After a moment of terrible silence, she spoke: "He would love you, even if you were disfigured. He would love you, no matter what." The last sentence was spoken barely above a whisper.

Sarah brought her hands to her face, pressing her palms into her forehead. The tears began flowing relentlessly. "Why does he love you so much," she demanded to know.

"I…I…don't know," Motoko weakly breathed. Sarah's head snapped up, her scowl revealing a murderous intent. The rage in her soul broke loose, compelling her to act. She lunged at the prostrate figure with her blade poised for an attack.

Sarah cringed in pain as she felt Motoko's vice like grip take hold of her offending wrist, the blade held limp in her hand. She could not believe the amazing strength Motoko was displaying after almost dying only a few hours before. Fear broke out in Sarah's stomach as she met Motoko's eyes – she had seen those eyes before.

It was Motoko of the Shinmeiryu.

"A year ago Sarah, I would have gladly submit my life to your rage," Motoko spoke in belabored voice, "but I am afraid that my life is no longer void." With impressive force, Motoko flung Sarah against the far wall – her former strength returning to her. The impact shook Sarah's teeth, filling her mouth with the taste of salty iron with just a hint of bile. Sarah's vision blurred as she attempted to catch site of the danger approaching her.

Motoko felt the stabbing pain in her gut as she hurled Sarah across the room, but dared not show weakness, her training taking hold. She gritted her teeth and prepared to do the impossible. Most doctors would say a woman who just had a c-section should not be able to stand, let alone fight, but Motoko was no ordinary woman.

She gripped the railing and slowly shifted her legs off of the bed. She was still numb below the waist, but refused to give into such trivialities. Someone wanted to end her and she could not allow that – she could not allow her baby to go motherless.

It was then that the memories of the day came rushing back to her. Her warrior's spirit dissolved as her fear grew into desperation. "What happened to my baby?" Motoko cried out.

In her search for vengeance, Sarah had not taken the time to find out what had happened to the baby. The words pierced Sarah's heart, deflating her hatred. Her maternal instincts, though hardly a factor in her life, allowed her to empathize with Motoko's pain.

Motoko took a few steps towards the door, hoping to find a nurse, but instead fell onto the hard unforgiving floor. "What happened to my baby?" she screeched, pleading for an answer.

Recovering from her injury, Sarah focused her vision on Motoko. It was then she noticed the red stain on Motoko's hospital gown. "Omigod," she gasped, "she must have torn her stitches."

Nausea hit Motoko full on, causing her to slump to the ground. She struggled to pull her head back up, but a wave of dizziness overtook her. The room began to spin around her, the cold becoming unbearable. "Please," she gurgled, "Where is my baby?"

Sarah crawled to her and pulled the sagging figure to her chest. She could feel the warm wetness on her fingers as she attempted to slow the bleeding. Sarah began to panic when Motoko's eyes began to recede into the back of her head. "Stay with me," she yelled, trying to keep Motoko conscious.

"Somebody help me!" Sarah screamed, as she tenaciously clung onto Motoko, hoping to keep her life energy from bleeding out into the abyss.


	13. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: The path to hell is lined with what?  
**

New Brunswick, NJ.

"What are we waiting for?"

Shinobu was getting impatient. Her motley crew had been in America for three days, but instead of looking for the man they thought was lost to them, they were sitting on their well-shaped rears in a plush suite at the Hyatt.

Naru sympathized with Shinobu's feelings. She too wanted to pound the pavement, but Su raised a good point. Naru was the only one – other than the resident genius – who spoke English well enough to navigate the bustling city landscape, and since she had to stay in doors because of the excessive heat of the Jersey summers, Naru would be of limited help.

Su was fluent, but she had to rebuild the Keitaro radar, which had been damaged during their long flight. Without the device, finding Keitaro would be a near impossible task. This left Kitsune and Shinobu with nothing to do but wait.

Shinobu left the living room where Kitsune and Naru were watching American television, and walked outside onto the balcony. The moment she opened the sliding door, Shinobu was hit by an oppressive wave of hot-thick-muggy air, the humidity causing her clothes to uncomfortably stick to her body. She took a moment to acclimate to the oppressive environment. Summers in Hinata Springs were hot, but being next to the ocean, never knew the terrible burden of humidity.

Once inured to the damp heat, Shinobu walked over to the railing and leaned over the side. Her eyes began to explore the surrounding terrain, hoping to spot a familiar face in the crowd below. New Brunswick had its tall buildings and heavy traffic, but it was no Tokyo. She was irritated that in a city so small, she could not find the man she loved and lost all those years ago. Her tiny hands gripped the rail, the whites of her knuckles clearly visible.

"I'll find you Keitaro, no matter what." That was the promise Shinobu made to herself when she learned that Keitaro was still alive. It was a promise she was determined to keep.

Shinobu reached behind and grabbed an object that was wedged between the small of her back and the waistline of her blue jeans. She gently stroked the wooden phallus, admiring the sheen of its lacquer finish. With a smooth motion, she gently eased the tanto out of its sheath. She held the blade into the air, admiring its gleaming surface as it reflected the light of the noonday sun. According to legend, the blade was forged by an Urashima as a gift to his beloved. Since then, it has been passed down the line until it finally came to Keitaro's possession. According to tradition, the wielder of the mystical tanto would find their one true love in this life. The legend held true for Keitaro – after all – he did find his promise girl. The legend, however, never mentioned anything about living happily ever after.

After Keitaro's supposed death, the blade was passed down to Kanako, who felt unworthy of the legacy. She was not a true Urashima, being adopted into the family, but she was the last of her generation to hold the name. Not many had known that Haruka, after a tragic car accident, was left barren, leaving Keitaro as the sole means of propagating the family bloodline. That burden now fell to Kanako.

But Kanako had no intention of fulfilling an empty duty. She could neither promulgate the Urashima bloodline, nor be with any other man except her beloved Keitaro. It was this deep devotion to her brother that swayed her decision in training Shinobu. She was the only one at the Hinata Apartments who treated Keitaro with love and respect, the only one deserving of his affection. In truth, Kanako felt a special kinship with Shinobu – they both were the unfortunate victims of unrequited love.

Four years ago…

Shinobu had suffered a near catatonic state of depression since Keitaro's accident. She never returned to the Hinata Apartments, spending most of those early days sitting alone in an empty apartment on the edge of Tokyo. That was until she heard the news of Keitaro's death.

Her mother feared the news would send her over the edge, which was her reason to hide the truth from her daughter. She did not want to leave Shinobu behind, but thinking that she was still ignorant of her love's death, felt it would be okay. Shinobu, however, overheard the phone conversation.

"He died, in a fire, how terrible," Ms. Maehera gasped into the receiver.

That was three hours ago.

The metallic clicking sound told Shinobu that her mother had left for work. It was time. She walked out onto the balcony. Her apartment rested on the fifteenth floor of a 30 story complex. She peered over the edge and began imagining the feeling of free falling: air rushing past her, the blurring of lights as she neared the cold concrete below, and the feel of her body impacting the ground below. The pain would be beyond description, but would last only a moment – she welcomed it.

"It would be a terrible waste of prettiness if you just jumped off like that," a voice rang out from behind. Shinobu's spine stiffened, the hairs on her arms straightening. "It can't be," she stuttered, knowing full well that what she heard was impossible.

The door was locked. No one else lived in the apartment but her and her mother. And the voice – it belonged to a dead man. Shinobu slowly turned her head, her eyes wide with anxious anticipation. "I mean, you've grown up into a sexy young girl and never even had a boyfriend. That's just a damn shame if you ask me. You should at least wait until you kissed someone," Keitaro spoke, his goofy grin ever present. "Keitaro!" Shinobu exclaimed with joy, still blushing from his comments. She ran to him, encapsulating Keitaro with her arms. She held so tight that Keitaro's eyes bulged from the pressure. "Easy girl, I may be dead, but that still hurts."

"Dead?" she replied, not daring to lessen her grip on the apparition. "Yep, in a fire," responded Keitaro, his toothy smile still present. "But then how could you be here?" she asked.

"Well, you see, you're a bit emotionally unstable and the news of my death kinda pushed you over the edge. So you can think of me as a visual, auditory delusion instigated by an acute traumatic event," he replied gingerly.

Shinobu pondered his words carefully. Could he be a delusion? She still possessed a sharp intellect capable of rational thought. Keitaro had died in a fire. He died while in a near vegetative state. There would be no way the man before her could be the real Keitaro.

Shinobu sighed, accepting the truth of her hallucination's words. She stepped back from him, her eyes downcast and sullen. "It was all just a pleasant dream, a last remembrance before the end," she whispered. Keitaro, in response, rubbed the back of his head and threw out another classic smile.

"I love you Keitaro," said Shinobu as she turned towards the railing, "I'll be with you soon." But before she could climb that final step to oblivion, arms shot past her, lassoing her in. "Now what did I say about jumping…by the way…has your chest grown since the last I saw you," Keitaro whispered into her left ear, the heat of his breathe making her shiver.

"What?" she stammered, in disbelief of how perverted her subconscious seemed to be. "Remember our promise Shinobu, it was a promise just between us," he finished, before dissolving into the gathering mist.

Shinobu trembled as his words penetrated her soul. She had made a promise to him – to get into Tokyo University. He was gone, but the promise remained. A promise made with the one you love is sacred and must always be kept. That's what Haruka told her once, a long time ago.

Crumbling onto the floor, Shinobu wept; her tears draining away the fetid emotions that were poisoning her heart. "I'm sorry Keitaro, please forgive me," she bawled, choking on her tears.

The next day, she left her home and sought out Kanako Urashima. Though they had never been close, Shinobu had always looked up to her, even envied her. Kanako, though a very strange person, possessed unmitigated gall and temerity. So deep was Kanako's conviction and determination that she was willing to suffer society's indignation to pursue a relationship with her own brother. Shinobu wanted to learn the same strength that gave Kanako her ability to stand up against an entire culture.

But even Kanako had her breaking point. It was her adoptive mother that broke the news to her a week before Shinobu found out.

"No, you're lying!" Kanako shrieked. Minutes before, Kanako felt an uncomfortable sensation forming in the pit of her stomach as her mother approached her. She had heard her mother cry during the night before. Kanako wanted to go to her mother, but something kept her back. She wished her father was home – he would surely know what to do – but he was in China visiting old friends.

In the morning, Kanako was in the kitchen, baking a batch of cookies for the store. She could hear her mother's light foot steps approaching her. Her years of martial arts training had taught her to read the environment – to gleam information from the most obscure of sources. And this morning, the environment told her that something dreadful was on its way.

"Honey, dear, I have something to tell you," her mother said, stammering out the words. Her eyes were bloodshot, tear streaks stained her cheeks. "Mother, what is it?" Kanako asked. Her mother clenched her eyes shut, praying silently to her God: "Give me strength dear lord."

Kanako reached out for her mother's clenched hands, "tell me mother, what's happened?" Her mother's eyes opened. She saw the eyes of her daughter, wide and quivering. She knew of Kanako's love for Keitaro and how it evolved from a child's innocent crush to a woman's blind passion.

"Keitaro died," her mother blurted out, collapsing from the horrendous release. There was no response at first. Kanako just stood silently in the kitchen. "That's not true," she finally responded, her voice barely audible. "I'm sorry," her mother sniffed, "there was a fire. Haruka tried to save him, but it was too late."

"No, you're lying?" Kanako shrieked, slamming her fist against the wall, shattering the tile into dust. Her mother rushed to her, trying to embrace her distraught daughter, but Kanako pushed her away.

"He's not dead, he can't be dead," Kanako stammered, stumbling onto the floor. Kanako's mother crawled to her, and then embraced her with all the tenderness she could muster. "It'll be okay," said her mother, cradling the young girl in her arms.

But they both knew that nothing would ever be right again.

A week had passed and the house that was once home to Keitaro Urashima was no longer a home to anyone. Keitaro's father, Kenji, never returned after hearing the news of his son's death. He had blamed his wife for driving their son away for pursuing a dream that he thought was worthy of their support. In truth, their marriage had been deteriorating at the seams long before Keitaro was forced out of their home. Keitaro's death had left an irreparable fissure in their relationship. Kenji returned to Japan only to pay his final respects for the son that he had lost. With freshly laid flowers on Keitaro's tombstone, Kenji Urashima said goodbye and never returned to the land of the rising sun.

Kanako had also made the decision to leave home. Though she knew her mother needed her, staying in the house where she grew up with her beloved brother was just too much for her to bear. After she had cried out the tears that fateful day, she ran out of her house. She ran down the street towards the train station that would take her to the Hinata Sou, but she did not stop there. She kept running, past the station, past the cars, and past the memories of a boy with the kindest of smiles.

When she reached the ancient steps of her ancestral home, Kanako's body screamed for rest. Though possessing a physique that even an Olympian would envy, Kanako had pushed her body past its limits, running the entire 20 or so miles to traverse the distance between her home and the Hinata Apartments.

Still, she would not relent. A horrendous roar could be heard for miles, the sound of defiance from a young girl pushing past physical torment. She climbed the hundred steps, the skin on her knees and shins shredded by the uncompromising stone, thinking of only one thing – to see her Keitaro once more.

It was the smell that struck her first – the unmistakable stench of smoldering ash. Her heart raced, pounding her tiny frame with tremendous force. Forcing the last drops of adrenaline into her system, Kanako climbed the final steps that led to the courtyard.

What awaited her nearly broke Kanako. All that remained of the grand estate was the charred foundations of the house and black ash. "Keitaro," Kanako screamed, running towards the wreckage. Suddenly, a blazing fist slammed into her gut, sending her wheeling back. Numbness spread throughout her body. Kanako crumbled to the ground as her diaphragm began to spasm, hindering her breathing. As she began to slip from consciousness, Kanako caught a final glimpse of a person hovering above her, the slight scent of tobacco hanging in the air. "Sorry kid, but it was for your own good," said Haruka, lighting the cigarette in her mouth.

A day later, Kanako awoke, lying in her own bed. It came to her first as a dull ache, a curious sensation that caught her by surprise. But then the sensation grew into an explosive pain that shot throughout her body. Kanako writhed in agony, yelling out for someone to end her pain.

Someone answered her call. Haruka grabbed hold of Kanako's floundering left arm, and quickly injected her with vial of clear liquid. "What did you do?" Kanako gasped, feeling the relief spreading from the injection site. "I just gave you a shot of morphine, nothing to trouble yourself. You tore up a lot of good muscle tissue with that little run of yours," Haruka replied as she gently massaged Kanako's sore limbs, coaxing healing energy into them.

Kanako relished the waves of relief that she was sweeping over her, but reality came crashing into her thoughts. Snapping out of her reverie, Kanako turned her icy gaze towards Haruka. "Tell me" Kanako demanded, beginning to seethe in anger.

Haruka felt her emotions, like bile, rising in her throat. She had rehearsed this scene a thousand times over, knowing that her plan relied on convincing Kanako. Haruka knew that the pain she was about to cause would damn her for all eternity, a price she was almost unable to pay.

Taking a deep breathe, Haruka finally spoke.

"It was an electrical fire…"


	14. Chapter 23

**A note from the Author**

Hello folks,

Here's the deal. This story is going to get messy. I was going to leave it as a surprise, but I was a bit worried that people might overreact. So here's the deal. Do not read on if you don't like to get upset, because this story is heading for some choppy waters (i.e. people is gonna die). I tried to steer it away to safer ground, but alas, I'm a poor navigator. If you're still interested, by all means, read on. And keep the reviews coming, I find them very encouraging. Plus, my goal is to be the most reviewed writer in the world – yeah, I'm that egotistical.

P.S. It gets really sad so beware.

**Chapter 23: The Long Road to Nowhere**

The Jersey winter had finally settled in, bringing with it frost covered mornings and frigid ebony nights. It was the nights that had most affected Motoko. Though unbelievably cold, the winter nights brought with it a spectacular view – an unhindered starry night.

On those nights, the moon would hang low and bright – seemingly just out of reach. The clear crisp air magnified the distant lights of the stars above. The amalgamation of the two natural phenomenons created a vision of unparallel majesty. The heavenly sight was Motoko's lone solace during those long lonely years before Keitaro woke from his deep slumber.

But he was no longer asleep. Keitaro was awake and living with her. Now she could share the winter nights with the man she loved – the father of her unborn child. She stood silently outside, gazing at the stars. Keitaro stood next to her, holding her hand. While she absorbed the scene above her, he stood transfixed by the beauty in front of him. In the pale moon light, Motoko's skin seemed to radiate with an incandescent glow, making her appear almost ethereal.

"My angel," he whispered, nuzzling the side of her neck with his nose, luxuriating in the feel of her silken hair against his skin; the cold only enhancing the sensation. Keitaro then stood back, surprising his love. She watched in confusion as he knelt down on one knee.

"What are you doing Keitaro?" she asked. Suddenly, an image flashed in her mind. Keitaro's position was reminiscent of something that she had previously seen. A colleague back at the university had once experienced a similar gesture. Her boyfriend had surprised her one day when they were eating lunch in the school's central courtyard. He had also knelt down on one knee, but Motoko could not remember the significance.

She watched as Keitaro began fumbling in his pocket; apparently, looking for something that he wanted to present to her. It was then she realized what was happening, her memory returning to her. A ring on bended knee was a marriage proposal in the Western tradition.

"Marry me."

Her finely tuned ears could hear neither hesitation nor trace of doubt in his voice. But her doubts still lingered on even after their romance had been cemented. She feared her sins would not be so easily forgiven and that her happiness would soon be at an end. Motoko feared the day that his love for another would be rekindled.

She did not want to cause him anymore pain. She did not want to be his cage.

Motoko slowly returned her gaze back to the stars, leaving Keitaro without an answer. A moment passed before Keitaro realized that something unexpected was going to happen. Perplexed, he looked towards the regal young woman, trying to decipher her enigmatic behavior.

Still focusing on the moon above, she spoke, "It has been my dream for these many years to be your wife, but I am not worthy of such happiness…"

"That's not true Motoko, I'm the one who's not worthy," Keitaro interjected, but was silenced by Motoko's nimble fingers as they pressed against his lips.

She then turned her head towards him so that her eyes could meet his. "Please Keitaro, let me finish," she whispered, trying to keep from crying, "I want to say yes – with all my heart I want to be with you, but I know that one day, this dream will end and you will find that the world you left behind is still waiting for you."

The words struck him cold. She may not have said the name, but she could not be any clearer: Naru was and will always be his promise girl. She would not deny him his destiny, even if meant her own happiness.

"I would live this dream Keitaro, but I will not burden you with the fantasy of a silly girl," she stuttered, the emotions beginning to rupture through, but was cut off by Keitaro's sudden embrace.

She struggled against his arms, trying to maintain her conviction. "Would you let me hold you like this forever?" he asked, tightening his hold on her, "Would you stay with me and be with me?" Then he took hold of her chin and eased it gently up until only a mere inch of space separated the two. "I'm willing to fight for us Motoko. Are you?"

Motoko Aoyama had loved him since she was a young girl of sixteen. He was her first love – her only love. So why run from him now? "Live in the here and now Motoko – with me," Keitaro added, whispering the words into her ear.

And in that moment, Motoko's fears and doubts were allayed. "Yes," she managed to squeak out before consuming him with her kiss. Keitaro, surprised to find his lips being engulfed in warm bliss, gave in to the sensation. Fate had taken from him his promise girl, Tokyo University, and five years of his life. And though fate had not been kind to the young dreamer, Keitaro Urashima was grateful that night – he had found happiness.

Now that happiness was once again threatened by the vicissitudes of fortune. Keitaro heard a scream as he neared his wife's hospital room. Panic gripped his heart. He instantly recognized the voice as Motoko's. He ran down the hall, knocking down several loitering visitors. "Motoko," he screamed, straining to hear a response. Entering the room, he found his love sprawled on the floor – alone. He saw the crimson stain on her hospital gown and winced at the sight. Before he could go to her, a strong arm had wrapped around his waist and pulled him away.

Suddenly several people dressed in hospital scrubs stormed into the room and fell to the floor. A young woman, not much older than Motoko, began taking her vitals. An older man, the doctor, began shouting orders. Keitaro wanted to kick and scream, but the sight of the medical team swarming around his wife held him still.

Motoko was then lifted up off the floor by the two orderlies and placed on a gurney. She was rolled away by the unnamed persons. Keitaro could only watch helplessly as the surreal events unfolded before him. When the room had emptied, he felt a sudden release of pressure along his waist. Keitaro stumbled forward, but quickly regained his footing. Turning around, Keitaro prepared to attack his assailant, but was paused at the recognition of his would-be foe.

"You have to calm down," Seta muttered, nursing his swollen cheek. In the scuffle, Keitaro had elbowed him in the side of the face, leaving behind a painfully looking bruise. Keitaro wanted to be angry at the man for keeping him from his wife, but reason could not be denied. Seta had stopped him from acting hastily, probably saving Motoko's life in the process.

"C'mon, let's go see about you wife." Taking him by the shoulder, Seta led the distraught young man out of the room. Waiting until she was sure that no one had remained behind, Sarah stumbled out from the bathroom and collapsed onto the floor. Too stunned to cry, Sarah continued to lie prostrate on the cold tile floor of the hospital room. Minutes had passed before Sarah noticed the figure hovering near the door.

"You should have killed her. It would have saved me the trouble."

Sarah recognized the voice. It belonged to her closest friend and confident, but she had not seen her in years. Sarah lifted her head and to her surprised found Koalla Su standing in the doorway. Su was donned in a charcoal black dress suit, her hair tied back in a tightly wound bun that lay snuggly on her head.

It was her expression that concerned the blue-eye girl. Sarah had known Su for most of her life, and never had she known the young island princess to hold such a dispassionate countenance.

Su was almost cold – a steely gaze where soft and jubilant eyes should be. Inexplicably, Sarah began to grow anxious in the presence of her closest friend. Could the years have changed her so much? It was then she remembered Su's remark and gasped at its meaning. She stammered, "What are you saying?"

A look of disgust replaced the cold visage on Su's face. Sneering at the hapless figure below, Su retorted, "God, you're spineless. What did I ever see in you?" Sarah lifted herself off the ground and slowly made her way towards her friend, but was halted when she saw the gun. Su had reached into her pocket book and pulled from it a small revolver with a silencer attached. Before Sarah could react, Su pointed the firearm at her friend's midsection and pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet barreling through the air was the only thing Sarah heard before she felt the explosion of pain erupting in her stomach.

Sarah looked down and was surprised to see the blood spurting from the hole in her abdomen. She cupped her wound and returned her gaze back to Su, her eyes wide in disbelief. Su fired another round, impacting the shoulder. Sarah, losing the feeling in her body, collapsed onto the floor.

Su hovered above the dying girl, watching with amusement as Sarah's mouth opened and closed like a fish stranded on land. "I want you to know why you're going to die today," Su taunted, "It's because no one can have my Keitaro. He's mine." Su then raised her weapon again and aimed for Sarah's head.

"Oh my god," Rebecca screeched, horrified by the scene before her. Su looked up and was dismayed by the interruption. Without hesitation, she redirected her gun and fired two quick shots. The first bullet shredded the nurse's chest cavity. Before she could scream in agony, the second bullet impacted her frontal lobe, exploding out the back of her head, killing her instantly.

Singh stood ten feet away and watched in horror as he saw the blood gush from his lover's head. He screamed out her name and ran to her, not thinking of the consequences. The hallway filled with the sound of screams as several patients witnessed the brutal death of Nurse Rebecca and her fiancé. Singh had rushed to his fallen love, but was stopped short by the young girl holding the gun. He watched in almost twisted amusement as she unloaded two bullets into him. At first, he felt only the blinding pain tearing through his body, but the agony quickly subsided. He slumped to the floor, landing next to his beloved. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, Singh crawled over her body and embraced it with his arms. He then laid his head to rest on her chest and with his final breath, uttered a single world: "forever."

"Damn," Su grimaced in annoyance. She had exhausted her rounds and had nothing left for her friend still breathing on the floor beneath her. Hearing the panic outside, Su knew she had little time to waste or all her carefully laid plans would be ruined. "I guess you get a final reprieve," Su mockingly said, knowing full well that Sarah's wounds were fatal. She then walked over to the window and leapt out with the same agility that had been the hallmark of her youth.

"Oh God, Sarah!" Seta cried out, rushing to his daughter's side. He had heard the commotion and was drawn by it. People were screaming and running down the halls in terror. Others were shouting for help and police. It was the mention of a gun that had worried him. Though he didn't know why, Seta felt a sense of urgency to act. As he neared the source of the chaos, he recognized its location. It came from Motoko's hospital room. He then noticed the bodies of a young man and woman lying on the ground in front of the room.

Seta had seen death before, so was unaffected by its gruesome sight. However, nothing in his adventures could prepare him for what came next.

As he entered the room, Seta saw his little girl lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He ran to her, sliding to the ground. His hand trembled as he tried to feel for a pulse. "Stay with me," he pleaded, holding onto Sarah, wiping the blood from her chin. "Daddy, is that you?" Seta's eyes widened at hearing her voice. It was so weak and labored. He recognized it as the voice of the dying. "Yes, it's me baby," he replied, holding her hand against his cheek, trying to infuse his warmth back into her body.

"I don't want to die," Sarah whimpered, choking on the blood filling her lungs. She looked into her father's eyes, pleading for him to save her. But Seta could do nothing. He agonized as the life drained from her body, a lifetime full of wonder and potential fading into the nothingness. "Why God!" he bellowed, demanding an answer from the divine.

Sarah's body began to convulse, a guttural sound emanating from her throat. Seta's blood froze at the sound – it was her death rattle. He had seen it several times before in his expeditions. The dying last gasps of breath, the body shuttering as its bio-chemical processes began to shut down, the look of utter terror in the eyes of those losing hold on existence. All these he saw in his daughter.

Coldness enveloped his daughter, making her feel heavy in his arms. Seta pulled Sarah closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her, trying to hold on to her waning life.

He heard her speak a word, barely audible to the human ear.

"Daddy?"

Then she was gone.

Seta wept hysterically, clutching the lifeless body of his daughter. His thoughts had devolved into a chaotic mixture of emotions and images of days past. The only coherent thought that still remained intact in his mind was a single question: "Why?"

Keitaro was shaken by the sound he heard. Intimate with misery, he knew the wail that had echoed throughout the hallways of the hospital could only be that of a man who had lost his everything.

"Poor bastard," he thought, before turning his attention back to his wife as the doctor went on repairing the damage to Motoko's flesh.

Miles from the carnage, a telephone rang.

"Hello," Naru spoke into the receiver. "I found him," Su responded, "I finally found him. Get the girls ready, I'll be there in ten minutes."


	15. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: Sins of the Past and Sins of the Present**

Keitaro stepped through the doorway of his home, dreading the ensuing silence. It had been almost a full day since his wife went into labor. The chaos of Motoko's near death, the murders at the hospital, and the premature birth of his son were all too much for Keitaro, but he endured – he had to.

"Go home Keitaro, you can't do anymore here," said the doctor. Keitaro looked up from his perch hovering over Motoko's bed. The doctor could see the bright red capillaries in the young husband's eyes, the pain raging within them. "I will not leave them," Keitaro replied with a conviction that the doctor recognized.

He too had almost lost his wife and child in an accident so many years ago. He understood the torture of watching helplessly as loved ones hovered near the precipice. Placing his gentle hand on Keitaro's shoulder, the doctor calmly spoke, "Keitaro, you need to rest. You can't be strong for them if you're fighting exhaustion. Please, go home and come back in the morning. I promise that I'll call you the moment there's a change."

Keitaro was beyond exhaustion – he felt his soul on the verge of disintegration. He wanted to refuse, but he also wanted to escape the misery that he was feeling. Without saying a word, Keitaro nodded his head and capitulated to the doctor's wisdom.

An hour later, Keitaro was home, but at that moment, it felt anything but home. His mind was still troubled by the day's event. Had it been a terrible dream? What about the murders? Though he had no reason to believe it, Keitaro could not help but feel that the deaths were somehow connected to him.

His somber contemplation, however, was interrupted by a stray word uttered.

"Keitaro?"

Keitaro's eyes widened at the recognition of the voice. It was the voice that had haunted his days and nights since he awoke from his coma. It belonged to the one he loved most in the world – the one he made a promise to as a five year old boy playing in a sand box.

"Keitaro, is it really you?"

The dulcet voice quivered with each passing word. Keitaro felt the emotions bursting from every syllable. Slowly, he turned to face the voice and saw standing before him was Naru Narusegawa.

He had seen pictures of her on the internet. Sarah had kept a picture blog of all the members of the Hinata Sou. None of them did her justice. Naru stood tall, her hair long and shimmering gold. Her eyes glistened in the dim light of the hallway light. She was wearing a summer dress with a pink floral pattern. Keitaro felt the wind knocked out of him. She was beautiful – radiant. She was the Naru he remembered all those years ago.

But she was no longer Naru Narusegawa. She had married and was pregnant with someone else's child, news he had learned from a posting on Sarah's blog. Naru caught sight of his eyes as they glanced towards her bulging waist line before falling to the floor.

She had never felt more naked, but dared not look away from him in embarrassment. She had once before taken her eyes off of him and he disappeared as a result. She would not make the same mistake again.

Naru's eyes locked on to the man before her, scanning every detail of his body. She was startled. He was not the Keitaro she remembered. The eyes were shrunken into his head, dark and sullen. His lips, stretched tight across his face, lacked the illuminating smile that had always made her feel at home. Naru had seen Keitaro sad before, but never in misery. It was as if he had lost hope.

Suddenly, the realization struck her with titanic force. Keitaro was alive and standing in front of her. Emotions that she had buried long ago were rising back up, threatening to revolt against her senses. Tears began streaking down her cheeks. "I can't believe you're alive," she stammered, slowly making her way to him, stretching out her hand.

"Please be real," she kept repeating in her mind, over and over again.

He watched her come closer. Keitaro felt battered by his emotions. He had spent the past 26 hours at the hospital, keeping vigil over his wife and newborn son as they struggled to live. Now, his first love had resurfaced. "What should I do?" he asked himself.

Naru made the choice for him. She embraced him, crying into his chest. "Oh Keitaro," she wept, "I can't believe you're still alive." Keitaro, at first, was uncertain of what to do. He had imagined this scene a thousand times over, but dreams weren't real. This was.

"Please, hold me," Naru cried out, sensing his hesitation. Needing no more prompting, Keitaro wrapped his arms around her, remembering the feel of her warmth. He took in her scent – the smell of lilac filled his nostrils. It was the perfume that he had gotten her as a birthday gift.

They stood in the middle of his home, embraced. Neither knew what the future held for them, but in the moment, they didn't care. They were together again; two star crossed lovers reunited. Fate had been brutal, denying them their much deserved happily ever after.

Time had passed, but neither knew how much. It was Naru who made the first move. She stepped back, breaking from the embrace. She wanted nothing more than to remain in his arms forever, but Naru also wanted answers. Keitaro was taken from her and she wanted to know why, but the words would not come out. She was overwhelmed with emotions that had taken her years to suppress.

Keitaro saw Naru's body tremble. She was struggling to speak. Seeing her in pain, Keitaro instinctively went to her and embraced Naru once more. He then recounted the days after he had awoken from his coma, how Haruka had arranged his supposed death and move to America. He then paused in his narration. He did not know how to proceed. At first, he thought of lying to her about his marriage to Motoko, but knew that he could do no such thing. Naru deserved to hear the truth. So with a deep breath, Keitaro spoke of Motoko and their relationship. Naru's response was immediate.

She pushed Keitaro violently back, nearly forcing him to the ground. She flailed her arms, pounding him with her fists. "How could you marry her!" she screamed, "Do you know how much pain she caused us? All those years of misery!"

Keitaro tasted blood. A stray punch had landed clean against his bottom lip. As the bitter taste of iron began to permeate throughout his mouth, Keitaro chuckled. Caught off guard, Naru cried out, "What are you laughing at?" Wiping the blood from his lips, he turned his attention towards her and winked. "I missed the Naru punch," he replied.

Catching sight of the blood, Naru's mind flashed back to the day at the hot springs – she could never forget the blood from that day. She collapsed onto the floor, clutching her head in her hands. Keitaro saw this and went to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," he whispered, trying to calm her down.

Naru lifted her head so her eyes could meet his. Keitaro was taken by the pained expression that he saw. "How could you love her after everything that she did to you, to us?" she cried out.

Keitaro could only stare back into Naru's deep green eyes in response. With a sigh, he sat himself down next to her and began to stare off into some place that Naru could not see. For a moment, the house filled with a deafening silence. He then spoke, "I don't really know myself. I know Motoko hurt me, you, and everyone else, but I could never hate her for it. I mean, she also suffered, more so even." Keitaro paused, giving him time to breathe. He then gently placed his hand on top of hers and held it firmly. He continued, "But mostly, I needed to start living again. We all did."

Naru had nothing to say. She needed time to digest all that had happened. She felt betrayed, angry, hurt, and happy all at the same time. Motoko had taken him from her. Haruka had hidden him from her, and now Keitaro was married and having a baby with the woman she had blamed for all of the pain that they had suffered.

But she too was with child and married to a man not Keitaro.

Did any of that even matter now? She was with him again. Naru turned to him and looked deeply into his eyes. With her free hand, she gently caressed the side of his face, the tears unabated. Though she had confessed her love a thousand times over, he had never heard the words from her directly.

"I love you," Naru professed, feeling every bit of those words. Keitaro felt his heart leap into his throat. He had known of Naru's feelings, but to hear those words spoken aloud was an experience beyond anything he could have imagined. It was a dream come true, but also terrible burden.

His mind drifted towards the memories of his wife and child still in the hospital. Naru felt his body shifting away from her – his hesitation. She too had similar thoughts of her husband and the child she was carrying, but her heart could not be denied. She had longed to feel Keitaro's touch and keep the promise that they had made to each other.

"Just this one night," she whispered before pressing her lips against his. Keitaro wanted to struggle and break free, but couldn't muster the strength to resist. The day's events had worn him down raw. He could no longer fight the desire that he had imprisoned within his heart. .

Though he loved Motoko, Naru would always be his promise girl. "Just one night," he told himself, giving into her kiss.

Shinobu watched in utter horror as she watched the two become enmeshed into one another from the window. She wanted to scream out and stop them from doing something that they both would regret. In truth, she wanted to stop Naru from taking away her sempai for a second time.

She felt a hand pressing on top of her shoulder. Kitsune knew the turmoil her young friend was experiencing. Though never admitting her feelings, she too wanted to be with Keitaro. But none of them had Keitaro's heart. It was and would always be Naru's. That was why she, Shinobu, and Su agreed that Naru would be the one to make first contact with him.

It was only right for Naru to be with him – marriage be damned.

"C'mon, let's go and leave them be," Kitsune spoke as she left for the car. Shinobu nodded her head in agreement and walked away from the window. Su remained behind. The smile that she donned had vanished, replaced with a harsh expression that did not suit the young princess.

Having her back towards her friends, neither saw the sneer enveloping Su's face. The only thing preventing her from bursting through the window was her need for vengeance. Pulling a PDA from her pocket, Su clicked onto an icon. On the display, she watched the scene in the living room unfold as the two lovers finally consummated their love. Unbeknownst to them, a tiny web camera had been installed in the light fixture and was recording the affair.

Clicking the PDA off, Su walked over to her friends and took her place in the car. As they drove away from the house, Su reveled in silence as her plan unfolded as expected. "Soon," she whispered as they sped back toward their hotel.

Miles away, a TV in a hospital room sputtered to life. Attached to the TV was a device manufactured by Su Tech. The device clicked on as it began receiving a broadband signal from a video source a few miles away.

Motoko lay in her bed, trying to emerge from the black. Slowly, she managed to find her way back to the light. As she opened her eyes, Motoko could see the flickering images of the television, but could not make them out. She struggled to shake the slumber from her vision and slowly the image came into focus.

Her eyes widened in shock as she saw her husband with another woman in the throes of passion on the television screen. She could feel her heart breaking as she bore witness to Keitaro's infidelity. But it was the recognition of the other woman that threatened to unravel the young mother.

"Naru," Motoko gasped. It was then she spotted her tanto, ceremoniously draped in white linen, on the table next to the bed. Her attention returned to the television screen. Motoko watched in silence as Keitaro and Naru made love – she knew it was love and not carnal lust.

Each moan was a dagger through the heart.

Each moment that passed was an eternity of heartache and torture.

When they finally climaxed, the television screen switched off, leaving Motoko in the dark, alone with nothing but the tanto as her only companion. For minutes, she did nothing. She struggled to maintain her grip on sanity as the maelstrom of emotions tore through her soul. Then she looked over to the blade.

Taking it into her hand, Motoko unsheathed the sharp steel from its casing. Clenching the blade tightly, Motoko began to sob uncontrollably.

The only words she uttered was, "I love you Keitaro."


	16. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **

As you can tell, I'm reaching the climax of my little tale here, so you know there's going to be tragic events unfolding. I mean really tragic. Please don't read if you're sensitive and will be emotional distraught by death, destruction, and tragedy. After all, I did say this would be a tragic story of love lost and found.

**Chapter 25: Regrets are made for Lovers**

The full moon hovered low, illuminating the city with an incandescent glow. Standing alone on the roof of the Hyatt was Koalla Su, sipping ice sake. She was pleased with herself. The incident with Sarah had been an unexpected variable, but the fallout had been minimal. Naru's indiscretion had been predictable. Of course, she was uncertain if Keitaro would take the bait.

Su smiled at the irony of the situation. If it were not for Motoko's near death and premature delivery, Keitaro would never have fallen victim to her plot. He would have found the strength to resist Naru's charm.

Irony and vengeance made for some strange bedfellows.

But her appreciation was interrupted by a voice: "Die Demon Bitch!".

Su sense the attack coming and dodged the downward slash of the scimitar. The curved blade came crashing down with such force that it shattered the concrete roof below. Su managed to maintain her balance as she readied herself for the next blow. This time, several imposing spears hurled through the air, but caught nothing but emptiness. Su leapt into air with the deftness befitting a warrior of the Momolian Royal bloodlines.

Reaching deep into her blouse, Su pulled out several round objects, decorated with the sigil of the Momolian Royal House, and threw them in the direction of her attacker. The roof exploded in a brilliant flash. Brushing off dust from her shoulders, Su rose from the devastation and walked to the crater left behind by the grenades.

In the center of the blast radius laid a young woman. Her black jumpsuit was shredded by the shrapnel, revealing scorched and bloodied flesh. The assailant had long, white hair, which was similar to her own. Su took a moment to closely inspect her would-be assassin and instantly recognized the face.

"Hello sister dear, I see that you have become rather murderous in your old age," Su chuckled. Amalla felt the pain coursing through her body in waves. She was suffering from multiple lacerations and burns, but Amalla would not show her enemy weakness. Slowly, she raised her head to meet Su's gaze.

"Damn you vile demon, I will exact my revenge," Amalla said with clenched teeth. Then marshalling her strength, she stood up to face her opponent. Su watched Amalla with bemusement, like a cat amused by the actions of a mouse. With an eerily cheerful voice that would strike fear in the hearts' of any rational person, Su asked, "Why exact your vengeance on me dear sister?"

Amalla's expression grimaced with violent rage. Picking up her shattered scimitar, Amalla limped her way towards Su. "You are not my sister," she seethed, "I don't know who you are, but you are not Koalla!"

"I'm hurt sister, how could you say such a thing," Su replied, pouting her lips. Amalla swung wildly with her sword, but Su easily dodged the haphazard attacks. With blinding speed, Su appeared next to her sister, startling her. Amalla attempted to redirect her slash, but Su caught hold of her arm and snapped the bone with a twist of her wrist. Amalla bellowed in pain. Panic began setting in. "I can't die," she screamed in her mind.

Koalla felt a rush seeing her sister writhe in excruciating pain, but Amalla wasn't ready to lay down her sword. Fighting back the pain, she struck again, this time with her left arm. The attack went wide. Koalla ducked it easily and lay into Amalla's side with a bone breaking side kick. "I grow weary of this," Su whined as Amalla's ribs splintered from the force of her kick.

Amalla collapsed onto the floor, trying to hold in place her shattered ribs. The world began to swirl in brilliant light for the young Amazon. Her years of military training did not prepare her for the world of pain that she had entered. Tears began to cascade down her face, embarrassing the proud warrior. It was the whistling that brought Amalla out of her disoriented state. Anger exploded within her, masking the pain. She focused on her mission.

"Where's my sister?" Amalla wheezed out, struggling to stay conscious. Su, at first, ignored the broken woman before her and kept whistling her infantile melody. "Don't you ignore me you bitch!" Amalla shouted, seething in rage. Su turned to face her in response. The pleasant demeanor that Koalla had donned drained away, leaving behind a cold veneer that could freeze rivers.

"I killed her," Koalla replied, her voice devoid of any emotions. Amalla felt the rage overcome her; she charged. Koalla quickly side stepped the attack, grabbing her arm, and twisting it behind her back. "I'll kill you," she screamed, struggling against Koalla's iron grip. Using her free arm, Koalla grasped Amalla's throat and began constricting slowly.

Amalla tried to fight, but felt her strength ebbing. Though the older sister stood a full three inches taller, Koalla hovered above her, like death on a pale horse. Whispering into her ear, Koalla spoke, "Your sister stole Keitaro from me. She deserved the death I delivered to her."

Amalla wanted to strike out, but she had no power left. Before exhaustion could claim her voice, Amalla croaked, "Who are you?" Su sighed, breathing hot humid air down Amalla's neck. "I am afraid that you will die as you have lived - ignorant," Su answered back. Then Su closed her fingers around Amalla's throat, closing of her air. "No," Amalla managed to sputter before her throat was crushed under the intense force of Koalla's grip.

Amalla felt her body struggling for air, the desperation nearly driving her insane. Steadily, her body grew numb. Su felt Amalla's body quiver and convulse as it began dying from asphyxiation. When she felt the life gone from Amalla's body, Su released her, letting the corpse drop to the ground. "Oh my god, what have you done?" a voice squeaked out from behind.

"Dammit, another complication," Su chided herself. From the sound of the voice, she knew who was standing behind her. Su turned around, while drawing her revolver from her jacket. Shinobu stood frozen, her eyes wide with fear. She had just seen her best friend commit murder and now she was pointing a gun at her.

"What are you doing?" Shinobu begged her friend to answer. Without any further words, Su raised her weapon to align the sights. Her training kicking in, Shinobu dodge the first two bullets as they rifled past her. Her mind was racing to find an explanation to the nightmare that she had just encountered. She had come to the roof to find her friend – to talk about Naru and Keitaro. Now she was fighting for her life. Four more shots were fired. Shinobu evaded the bullets by leaping into the air, performing acrobatic feats that would be the envy of any gymnast or ninjua.

"Curses, I trained her well," Su grimaced, unloading her weapon but hitting nothing. Shinobu landed a few feet from Su and kicked away the gun from her hand. Su was about to leap backwards, but Shinobu managed to pull a hidden blade from her boot to the princess's throat. Breathing hard, Shinobu glared into her friend's eyes and demanded to know why she had just attacked her.

Su simply replied with an obnoxious grin. "Goddamn you Su, what's gotten into you?" Shinobu screamed. "Have you forgotten your training already?" Su asked whimsically. Something in her mannerism seemed familiar to Shinobu. It only took a moment before a flash of recognition struck her. "My god, could it be?" Shinobu asked herself. She stood there, knife in hand, confused by the thoughts that she was entertaining. She looked like Su, talked like her, and even ate like her. But before Shinobu could complete her thought, Su spoke out, "You were always my brightest student."

"It can't be," Shinobu gasped, "Kanako?" The smile left Su's face. She returned Shinobu's stare with an intensity that could rival the noonday sun. "But you forgot the first lesson of the Urashima School. Press the attack, never relent, lest you give yourself to the enemy," she added. Shinobu felt an explosion of pain in her midsection as the sound of gunfire filled her ears. She staggered backwards, clutching her belly. She could feel the warm liquid gushing from her wound.

Shinobu watched in astonishment as her friend approached her, the gun in her hand still smoking. "I am truly sorry for this Shinobu. Please believe me that you were never meant to get involved, but I cannot allow you to interfere," Su said earnestly. Shinobu forced back the panic, trying to keep her head clear. Looking behind, she realized that she was only a few feet from the edge. She turned her gaze back to Su. She screamed, "Why Kanako?"

Su took a free hand and reached for her neck. Pinching the skin, she began pulling it off. The skin, stretching unnaturally, began to give. With a quick sweep of her arm, she peeled off the mask that had hid her face from the world.

Underneath the disguise was the pale smooth skin of Kanako Urashima. Shinobu could not believe what she was seeing. But she had no time to reflect. Kanako raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet rifled through Shinobu's shoulder, driving her back. Before she could scream in pain, Shinobu stumbled over the railing, plummeting to the unforgiving concrete below.

Kanako, wiping away the errant tear that had escaped her left eye, walked towards the entrance to the roof. Giving a final glance back to the spot where her friend had fallen, Kanako offered a final condolence, "I am sorry Shinobu." With that, she left the roof.

The clock read three in the morning. The day had been long and demanding, but Keitaro couldn't sleep. The couch was comfortable enough, and Naru's warm body pressing down on him was a whole world of pleasures that he loved indulging in, but the gravity of his sin weighed heavily on him.

They spent hours on the couch, tearing up the upholstery, living a life that was not theirs to begin with. Keitaro had always loved her. She was beautiful and kind. She was smart and fun to be with. All the reasons that made her a great friend also made her a great lover. But for Keitaro, passion alone could not describe his love her for her. To him, they were kindred spirits reuniting in life.

And though he was happy to be with her again, Keitaro Urashima was feeling burdened by his guilt. Miles away, his wife and child lay near death in a cold and sterile hospital room and he was home, in bed with another woman.

And then there were the murders in the hospital to consider. Keitaro didn't know why his mind kept coming back to the murders. Was it a morbid curiosity? He knew the nurse and only met the doctor in passing. The third victim, a young girl with blonde hair was a stranger to him. The nurse called her Jane. Keitaro rummaged through his memories, trying to remember if he knew anyone by that name. None came to mind.

His silent contemplation was interrupted by the sensation of Naru's hair rustling across his chest. Golden waves came to view, shimmering in the moonlight. Keitaro began strumming her hair. In response, Naru began to purr in agreement. Stirring to life, she looked up and saw Keitaro watching from above.

It hadn't been a dream.

Thoughts of her husband still lingered in the backdrop of her mind, but Keitaro was there with her. She would weigh the consequences of her actions in the morning, but for now, she would pretend that the man beneath her was her husband. "I love you," she whispered, giving her the most angelic of smiles.

Keitaro wanted to weep. He felt happy to be with her, but his guilt could not be denied. Still, he had a smile for his promise girl and gave it to her freely. He would wait until the morning before he dealt with the consequences of his actions. The night would belong to them.

Naru lifted herself up to meet his gaze. No words were exchanged. The fear of waking from the dream was too great for them. She leaned over and gently pressed her lips against his, allowing the love that she held in her heart to flow through.

Keitaro jumped, nearly throwing Naru off of him, at the high pitch rail of her cell phone. Naru was tempted to let the phone ring, but she recognized the ring tone. She had given each of her friends a unique ring. It was Shinobu. "I'm sorry Keikun, but Shinobu wouldn't be calling me unless it's really important," Naru said apologetically as she reached for her phone.

Still amazed at how splendid Naru's nude form looked, Keitaro was too distracted to see the changing expression on her face. "Oh God Shinobu, what's happened?" she cried out. Keitaro's heart sunk as he heard the pain in her voice.

"Help me Naru, please, I need help," Shinobu whimpered into her cell.


	17. Chapter 26

AN: Sorry for the long delay. I've been rather busy. So as you know, this story is sad, and will most likely get more miserable and tragic. Keep the reviews coming, I find them helpful and a boost to the ole ego.

**Chapter 26**

The cold lingers in dark places. For the inhabitants of the Hinata Apartments, where the light had always shone, the deep chill of winter had always been kept at bay. But on that day, so many years ago, Motoko Aoyoma felt entombed in ice, the darkness finally settling in. The chill had seeped into her body slowly at first, draining her of feeling. Soon, she felt nothing but the emptiness of the frost.

After placing the final box into the moving truck, Motoko motioned the driver to go. She watched the U Haul sped away, carrying with it all the possessions of her beloved Keitaro or as she thought of it – his hopes and dreams. From across the courtyard, Haruka could hear the roar of the engine as the truck drove off into the distance. Being a hard woman, Haruka refused to shed tears, but even she was vulnerable to the same frailties that affect the species. Alone in the sanctuary of her room, she had wept for Keitaro after his "accident," and again when she lost Shirai to the willful folly of madmen. On that day, she was resolved to never shed tears again, since the last meaningful thing in her life was soon to be gone. The Hinata apartments had stood tall and proud for nearly five generations, but on that day, it would have to die to save its occupants. A fitting end for a home so imbued with love and affection.

Dusk was settling in, leaving only a dim glow to light Motoko's path up the stone stairs that led to the Hinata estate. As she traversed the stairs, Motoko replayed the days that she had spent there in the hills above Hinata Springs. They were good and happy memories. But she could also remember the sirens blaring from that terrible day. She could still hear his words, garbled by the blood filling his throat.

Slowly, Motoko reached the top of the stairs where Haruka stood in wait. Years ago, it was Haruka who had greeted her when she first arrived. On that day, she had worn a light brown turtleneck sweater and tan colored slacks. Her apron read "Hinata Tea House." She was sweeping away the leaves that had fallen onto the courtyard floor. Motoko, feeling anxious so far from home, was put at ease by Haruka's gentle smile, greeting her to her new home. But there was no smile on Haruka's face now. There was no warmth in her eyes, only the cold look of a person bereft of feelings.

Feeling her resolve slipping, Motoko took a moment to gather her strength. "It is done," she informed Haruka, trying hard to keep her voice even. Motoko had hoped that somehow, a miracle would happen and that Keitaro would wake up in time to stop them from doing what they were about to do. Haruka, also hoping for the same thing, nodded her head in response. The two stood silently, waiting for a miracle that would never come.

"Maybe there is another way, Haruka-san," Motoko offered, trying to stop the inevitable. Haruka lit her cigarette in response. Deep in thought, Haruka took one long drag from her Parliment, allowing the cancerous cloud to bathe her lungs. "They won't be able to move on, even if we kicked them out by force. It's the only way to give them a chance to live their lives," Haruka concluded. Motoko knew that to be true. The girls had slowly descended into a miserable existence, oscilatting between depression and apathy. Naru was the only one who would not cave in to the oppressive atmosphere that filled the house, always holding a smile for the man she cared for. It broke Motoko's heart when Haruka told her to leave him for only a short while.

"Never," Naru yelled out, clenching her fists menacingly. Haruka had just finished telling the girls that they needed to vacate the premises to allow the workers to rennovate the house. Though Kitsune, Su, and Shinobu were uneasy about leaving their beloved manager, it was only Naru who was vehemently against the idea. Motoko stood in th corner, concealed by the shadows. Tears began to form as she heard the desperation in Naru's voice.

"I'll never leave him again, you got that Haruka, I don't care what you do to me!" Naru bellowed. Haruka, her left eye twitching, knew that her tenent would not back down easily. "Please Naru, it's only for a short while, just until the repairs are complete," she assured the enraged teenager. Haruka, feeling the heat of Naru's fury, steeled herself for a battle. "The wiring in this place can't handle all of Keitaro's equipment, so we have to get it fix, but we can't have it fix if you're in the house," said Haruka, her voice strained and exhausted from the emotional toll the conversation was taking.

"Why can't I just stay with him and you?" Naru cried out. Feeling the dam burst within her, Haruka shouted, "because I can't stand seeing you like this anymore. Going around smiling like nothing is wrong while everyone is dying inside. It's like you gone crazy and just gave up on your dreams, on Tokyo U. God, do you think Keitaro would want you to be this way?"

The air in the room had become stifling. The girls were stunned by Haruka's outburst. She had always shown nothing but restraint. To see her so emotional suprised, maybe even frightened them. Only Naru was unafraid of the Urashima lioness. There was no monster terrible enough to deter her from her pact, but the thought of making him unhappy nearly crippled her.

She dropped to the floor, tears in her eyes. For a long time, no one said anything, as if a heavy blanket had muffled any and all sound. It was Naru who broke the silence. "Do you really think he's upset with me Haruka, for giving up on Tokyo U.?" Haruka wanted to burst out into tears. Naru had sounded so small and pathetic, it pained her to see the young woman this way.

"No," Haruka answered, "he could never be upset with you Naru, but he wouldn't want you to be like this. Take some time off from here and go see your parents. He'll be here waiting for you, I'll keep him safe - promise."

And that was how Haruka was able to convince Naru and the others to leave - she told them a lie so terrible that she had damned her soul. "He'll be here waiting for you." Motoko felt guilty for the charade and the subsequent pain to follow, but she had made an oath to Haruka, and she meant to keep it. Realizing that there was no other recourse, Motoko moved towards the entrance of her former home. As she drew closer to the house, Motoko felt the waves of nostalgia growing in strenght until she felt like she was reliving the past. She could feel the awe rising up as it did when she first laid eyes upon the place – it was so huge and imposing, and yet it felt so warm and welcoming at the same time. She had been happy there, perhaps more so than in her days spent on the ancestral grounds, but the pain and tragedy she experienced afterwards were almost unbearable. Her scars were a testament to that.

Haruka's gaze upon the house never wavere as the tears began to bead down her face, the lit cigarette trembling in her lips. In her mind, she could hear the screams of her conscience, imploring her to stop, but Haruka had no intention of stopping. She watched as Motoko entered her home to place the charge. "This is the only way," Haruka reminded herself.

Ten minutes passed before Motoko returned. Without a single exchange of words, she handed over a small device to Haruka. For a moment, Haruka hesitated. Seeing this, Motoko felt hope stir in her – maybe they wouldn't have to pursue such madness. Her hope was short lived

With tears still streaking down her face, Haruka pressed the button on the hand-held. It first came as a small rumble. The explosive charge placed in the electric socket of Keitaro's room had blown. The heat from the explosion ignited the accelerant that had been spread throughout the house, creating rivulets of flame that began to consume the structure.

The Hinata Apartments would not die so easily. The conflagration raged for hours before the inner walls collapsed, bringing down the once mighty home of the Urashima clan. Motoko and Haruka watched on from the distance, weeping at the loss of their home. Haruka, giving in to the pain, collapsed onto her knees. Motoko, trying to console her, was pushed back. "Don't touch me!" screamed Haruka, "it should be you in there!" Motoko could not respond. She knew that Haruka was right. It should have been her that was sacrificed and not their home.

But what was done was done.

For the longest time, Motoko dared not hope for happiness or forgiveness. She lived in the past, allowing the old demons to torment her – a means of atonement. But Keitaro had returned and she was now his wife, the mother of his son. She was alive again.

She had taken from him everything: his dreams, his love, and almost his life. In return, he had given Motoko the happiness that she had believed would be denied to her forever. So when she saw the images of him in the arms of his promise girl – Naru Narusegawa – flickering across the television screen, Motoko could not fault him.

Her heart was broken, but there was no anger or resentment, only a profound sense of loss. "He's never coming back," she thought, too despondent to cry. She saw the tanto lying on the side table, and reached for it. She had struck down her love, burned his home to the ground, and taken him from his destiny. She was guilty of terrible sins. The blade would be her atonement – her absolution.

Motoko unsheathed the tanto and wrapped the blade with the cloth from her sheet. She then placed it to her throat, its tip piercing the skin. The tears began to flow as the images of her past began to cascade in her mind. She remembered all the smiles and the laughter, as well as the tears and angry cries. "I love you Keitaro," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut, amassing the strength for the final stab.

"Stop that," Sakura shouted as she slapped the blade from Motoko's hand. Motoko eyes went wide, shocked at the sudden intervention. Wiping the sweat from her bow, Sakura sighed in relief, "I'm glad I made it here in time." Motoko, stunned from the intrusion, could not speak. Sakura, seeing this, smiled and cocked her head at a slight angle. "Remember me, I'm Sakura, Shirai's sister," she beamed, giving her a smile and a victory signal.

"Shirai's sister," Motoko echoed, struggling to regain her composure. It took a moment, but Motoko recognized the girl, "Yes, I remember now, we met before at Haruka's." The mention of her deceased mentor wiped away the smile and gleam from Sakura's eyes. Taking hold of Motoko's hand, Sakura began to speak.

"Haruka is dead. She was killed. I believe whoever had killed her knows the truth about the fire and about Keitaro. That's why I'm here – to protect both of you. Haruka knew that the truth would one day come to light and feared the repercussions, which is why she began training me. I saw parts of the video feed. I'm sorry that you had to see that, but it confirms our suspicions. Someone is here and is trying to kill you and may even try to harm the baby."

For a moment, Motoko wanted to break down. Someone – perhaps one of her friends – had arranged for her husband's infidelity and now may be setting out to harm her child. The images of him enthralled in Naru's body shook Motoko to the core. Then suddenly, as if a massive boulder had landed on her chest, the news of Haruka's death finally struck her.

"Haruka is dead," Motoko gasped.

Sakura's expression turned hard and cold. She replied, "Yes, butchered like some animal." Something in Motoko snapped. The woman who had mentored her as a youth, the one who had given her a chance for contrition, was murdered. The honor instilled in her since childhood cried out for justice – demanded it. All thoughts of suicide and doubt were banished from her mind. Saruka saw the resolve in Motoko's face and was relieved. "She'll need to be strong to endure the trials ahead," she thought to herself.

Motoko looked up and met Sakura's eyes with an unflinching gaze. "I will avenge her death, this I swear," declared Motoko, feeling the passion burning its way through the malaise of her sorrow.

Saruka replied, "Hai." After a moment of silence, Motoko spoke. "We must retrieve my baby and find Keitaro." But before she could muster the strength to leave her bed, Motoko felt a crushing blow against the back of her head. With her last few moments of consciousness, she looked up only to see Sarkura pleading with her eyes for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry Motoko, but this is the only way," Sakura whispered, placing her back into bed.

They had found Shinobu, lying unconscious on the lobby floor, bleeding from gunshot wounds. Naru felt the world crumbling around her. She had just talked with her friend only a few hours ago, and now, she was hovering above her, watching her die. Keitaro rushed to the fallen Shinobu, and inspected her wounds. "Dammit, she's losing a lot of blood," he cursed under his breath. Pressing down on the wounds, he shouted to a nearby bellhop, "Call the ambulance, someone's been shot!" As the room became animated with the sounds of gasping and mumbling, Naru managed to crawl to where Shinobu was lying.

"Naru, press here," Keitaro instructed her, placing her hands over the wounds. Naru wanted to pull away, feeling the slick warm blood drenching her hands. Feeling her anxiety, Keitaro looked into her eyes and spoke with a booming voice – "She needs you."

Having reality shoved down her throat, Naru felt her strength returning. She cradled the tiny girl into her arms, pressing hard against the wounds, trying to stem the bleeding. "She looks so pale," Naru whispered. This was not the first time Naru had seen blood or the pallor color of dying flesh. She had hoped that she would never have to see such a sight again, but it was not to be. Why had fate been so cruel to them?

It was the same thought that had tormented Naru on her wedding night. The ceremony had been small, attended by only close friends and family. Still, it was a happy time for the newly minted couple. It was only when they were left alone in the stillness of the night that her pain resurfaced.

She cried all that night, wailing in his arms. Her husband, deeply hurt that the one he loved was still so devoted to a dead lover, said nothing, but held her tightly to let her know that he was there for her. It was that moment that had dispelled any doubts of her love for her husband. He had been so caring and patient with her.

But the love she shared with Keitaro transcended any and all of those considerations – she was his promise girl. "Let's go," Keitaro shouted, lifting Shinobu into her arms. Snapping out her thoughts, Naru could only blink in response. She watched him running towards the entrance way. Finally banishing the fog that had seeped into her mind, Naru ran after them, managing to jump into the car just before Keitaro sped off.

"What are you doing Keitaro, shouldn't we wait for the ambulance?" cried Naru. Keitaro, his eyes blazing with determination, replied, "There was a traffic accident a few blocks away. All ambulances were diverted there." The car veered to the left, narrowly missing a pedestrian. Naru hit the side of the car hard. Realizing that he was a man possessed, she fumbled to get her seat belt on.

"Click," the buckle went when fastened.

"I won't let anyone die," Keitaro screamed in his mind. He had stayed out of their lives, because he did not want them to be burdened with the past. He wanted them to live their lives and be happy, but as he raced towards the hospital, he realized that because he stayed away, he could not protect them.

He was their manager, charged with the honor of safeguarding their lives. But the one that needed his protection the most was dying in the back of his car. "Please, Shinobu, don't die on me," he pleaded, weaving in and out of traffick like a man possessed.

The ER doors exploded open as Keitaro kicked his way in. He yelled out, "I need a doctor." Like the night before, the scene played out the same as it had with his wife. At first, the nurses could only look at him with incredulity, but one noticed the blood trickling down his arms – her blood. She yelled out an order and the rest of her team responded with lighting speed. A doctor in green scrubs took Shinobu from Keitaro and placed her on a gurney. They rushed her to the operating room, hovering above her with tubes and syringes.

Naru stood in silence when the medical team had left them behind in the ER triage center. But before she could say anything to the man she loved, Keitaro grabbed her wrist forcefully and dragged her towards the stairwell. "You're hurting me Keitaro," Naru wincing in pain.

Alone in the stairwell, Keitaro threw her against the wall. The impact rattled her teeth. "Stop, you'll hurt the baby," Naru begged, wrapping her arms around her womb protectively. Keitaro's anger, raging till that point, subsided. He had not intended to be so rough, but the rage in him clouded his judgment.

"What's wrong Keitaro?" Naru cried out, confused by his actions. Keitaro, for a moment, did not know what to say. He wanted to understand Shinobu's final words to him before she had passed out.

As he carried her to the car, Shinobu whispered into his ear, "I'm sorry Sempai. We came for you, but Kanako betrayed us." Keitaro wanted to stop and demand to know what she meant, but his mind screamed, "Don't stop fool, she's dying!" Nearing the car, Keitaro felt Shinobu shift her body weight in his arms. Using the last of her strength, she forced her body to raise her head so that they were eye level. Keitaro could see her lips trembling, the paleness of her cheeks, and the tears streaming down. He wanted to cry and lash out, but for her, he kept his composure. Shinobu had always loved him, the bumbling manager who drew his way into her heart, but she was just a child to him – a silly school girl with a crush. But she was a young woman now, dying, but still a young woman.

She was no longer the sweet and innocent youth, but a woman with passion and desires. And the one thing she had always longed for was standing before her, carrying her broken body to some distant place.

"Oh god, before you take me, please give me the strength to steal one kiss from him – please!" she prayed silently, trying to fight off the lingering cloud that threatened to consume her. And as if her prayers had been answered, Shinobu felt a surge of strength – not much, but enough to take what was hers.

Keitaro felt her cold and quivering lips pressed against his own. He could taste the sweet iron taste of blood. "I love you Sempai," Shinobu whimpered, offering him a smile that blossomed in his heart, before succumbing to her pain.

"Where's Kanako?" Keitaro demanded to know. Naru, confused by his strange question, answered, "Kanko? What are you talking about? How would I know where your sister is? What's going on?"

Keitaro, his rage rekindled, grabbed her by the shoulders. He peered into her eyes menacingly. "Don't lie to me! I want to know why Kanako did this," he barked, "tell me!" Naru could only gape at the crazed man before her. She hadn't seen Kanako in years, not since the Hinata Apartments burned to the ground.

Why would she be involved with Shinobu? They had been friends, more than friends; Kanako had been Shinobu's mentor. At first, Naru was concerned that Kanako would be a bad influence on her friend, but Shinobu grew up to be a strong independent woman, placating her fears. "Kanako would never hurt Shinobu, they're like sisters," uttered Naru, sweltering under his intense gaze.

Deep inside his mind, a voice began screaming, "What are you doing to Naru?" It sounded so distant, but Keitaro could hear the raw emotions imbued into the words. "She's your promise girl fool, how could you hurt her?"

His resolve shattered by the realization, Keitaro crumbled to the ground. His wife and son lay near death, Shinobu was shot, seemingly by his step-sister, and now he was hurting the woman that claimed his heart. The fear in her eyes was because of him, and the guilt of his crime finally made itself salient.

Naru, out of instinct, grabbed hold of him as he fell. She would not let him go – not again. "I'm so sorry Naru," he sobbed, feeling the warmth drain from him. "It's okay, Keitaro, I know that you didn't mean to," Naru whispered into his ear, embracing him with all her love.

Kanako seethed in rage as she watched them kiss from the top stair well. Though she had planned Keitaro's infidelity, she had not intended them to be so intimate afterwards. They were supposed to be distraught with guilt and shame for what they had done. Keitaro was supposed to be an emotional wreck. The guilt was supposed to take him to the brink where Kanako would swoop in and save him. He would then be ready for her.

She would be the salve to soothe his wounded soul. With Motoko gone, she would take care of his broken heart and help raise his son.. Eventually, Keitaro would forget that she was his adopted sister and accept her as a woman. They would be together, living as man and wife, but not if he has Naru to fall back on. Struggling to keep her rage in check, Kanako growled, "The bitch has to go."

"Is that what you said to my daughter," Seta asked cooly.

To be Continued...


	18. Chapter 27

AN: Hey, thanks for the reviews - even the critical ones. I mean, I hate you, but that's okay, cuz hate goes a long way for misanthropes like me. I wrote this chapter pretty quickly, so there probably some errors and stuff, but I figure, I wanted to get it out of my system as quickly as possible. I won't lie folks, not sure when I can conclude this story. There's only one chapter left, but I have to do stuff. So be patient please. Keep the reviews coming, don't sue me, and remember - I dig women with red hair. 

Chapter 27

The roof of the hospital exploded with a terrible force, sending a shockwave that reverberated throughout the building, terrifying the people within. Keitaro, holding Naru in his arms at the bottom of the stairwell, looked up with worry. He could see flames engulfing the ceiling, filling the building with acrid smoke. It couldn't be coincidence he thought. The murders, Shinobu, his sister, they were all connected, and he was at the center somehow. Suddenly, he felt a chill run up the length of his spine. He feared for the life of his wife and baby. "Motoko," he cried out, dreading the thought of her being hurt. Naru, trembling from the shock, felt her chest tightened as she heard him speak that person's name.

"I've got to find her," said Keitaro as he stood up. Naru, standing beside him, could only look away, her pain apparent. Keitaro, seeing this, embraced her, his right hand cradling the back of her neck. "I'm sorry Naru, I love you, but my wife needs me," he whispered into her ear, "please understand, I must protect the ones I love."

And then he was gone, dashing up the stairs towards the fire and smoke. Clenching her fist tight, Naru wept, knowing that she had lost the love of her life. But she did not cry for long. "I have to protect the ones I love too Keitaro, you taught me that," said Naru as she left to find Shinobu.

Up on the rooftop, Kanako was running for her life. She was afraid. Since the age of five, she had trained in the Urashima style of martial arts, a prodigy that had impressed Granny Hina, the headmaster of the discipline. The Urashima clan was legendary in the shadowy world of combat for their stealth, speed, and uncanny perception. It was said that no Urashima had ever fallen prey to an ambush or trap for they were too clever for such things. For an Urashima to have their backs to an enemy and not even know it was unheard of – but then again, none had to face an enraged Seta Noriyasu. She hadn't sensed him until it was almost too late. She managed to dodge Seta's first attack, a hammer fist so powerful that it exploded the concrete after it impacted the floor. She countered with a flurry of punches, but Seta effortlessly blocked each attack.

Jumping to a safe a distance, Kanako lobbed her patented Momolian grenades at him, engulfing him in fire and smoke. Standing in triumph, Kanako howled, reveling in the demise of her enemy. But her joy was short-lived. With demon speed, he leapt through the smoke and into the air, showing no evidence of damage. He landed mere inches from her, and with a deft smile, asked, "Why did you kill my little girl, Kanako? You can tell me, I won't tell anyone." His behavior was – to say the least, off. Kanako, hoping to fog his mind with anger, answered, "Because the little bitch was in the way."

There was no change in Seta's expression, his glib smile ever present. Pushing his glasses back with his finger, he sighed, "Is that so?" Kanako was unnerved by his creepy smile. Shaking off her fear, she lunged at him, a metal claw springing from underneath her sleeve.

Seta, standing nonchalantly, flexed his arm. Instantly, Kanako's blade snapped in two. "Impossible," she screamed, unable to fathom a human being capable of such speeds. Seta then appeared next to her, whispering into her ear, "It's called the God-like speed technique, been in the family for generations."

Kanko swung her elbow around, hoping to break his nose, but she missed wide. Seta, ducking the attack, sent a crushing palm strike into her side, breaking her ribs. The force of the blow rocketed her across the rooftop. Kanako landed hard against the unforgiving concrete. The crushing sensation in her chest told Kanako that her lung had collapsed when her broken rib punctured the soft pink tissue. "Damn," she cursed the gods, "I cannot die now."

Seta, perking up, responded, "What's that now little mouse? Speak up, I couldn't here you." Slowly, Kanako rose to her feet, her left arm cradling her chest, forcing her diaphragm to contract her lungs. Wiping the blood from her lips, her eyes swung up, staring straight into his visage. Her lips cracked a smile, a canine tooth exposed. She roared, "I SAID YOU"RE DEAD YOU BASTARD!" Drawing her kodachi, Kanako charged the still smiling Seta.

"So the little mouse can roar," he yawned, stretching his arms above his shoulders.

Somewhere in the hospital, Motoko awoke from the sound of explosions. Immediately, she leapt from her bed into her ready stance, her mind automatically banishing the pain she felt emanating from her womb. She spied Sakura near the doorway, her attention focused on the door.

With lightening speed, Motoko was across the room, holding Sakura by the throat, peering into her fearful eyes. "Where's my baby?" Motoko demanded. Sakura, her airway nearly collapsed, could only lift her arm to point to the plastic container that held the premature baby.

Seeing her boy, Motoko released Sakura, causing her to crumble to the floor. Motoko rushed to her child, tears in her eyes. She desperately wanted to hold him, her maternal instincts demanding satisfaction. "Don't Motoko," Sakura wheezed out, feeling the young mother's desire, "he needs to stay in there if he's to survive."

Motoko clenched her fist and pounded the floor, the force shaking the ground beneath them. She knew Sakura was right. Suddenly, she remembered the blow to her head. Motoko stood up and turned to face the frightened young woman.

Sakura had expected her to attack in retaliation for knocking her unconscious. She only hoped that she could explain in time before she lost the ability to speak, walk, or reproduce. But Motoko did not attack. Instead, she bowed. "Thank you for saving my child Sakura. I know that you only did what you did to prevent me from doing something rash. Thank you again," she said, her voice even and firm.

As she rose from her bow, Motoko looked straight into Sakura's eyes, and said "I must ask you for one more favor. Please protect my child, while I go find my husband." Sakura, seeing the strength behind Motoko's eyes could not deny her anything. She bowed her head and replied, "Of course."

Motoko then went to her baby and tapped on the glass. "I want you to know little one how much your father and mother love you. I promise you that we'll be together again," she wept out, allowing herself one last cry before battle.

Wiping away the tears, Motoko made her way to the door before Sakura called out her name. As she turned to respond, Sakura placed a large black object into her hand. The weight seemed so familiar, its contours almost welcoming.

She looked down and in her hand was a sword. The black scabbard was decorated with Chinese calligraphy and floral patterns of unparallel beauty. Its lacquer finish gave it a glimmering appearance. The hilt proudly displayed the crest of the Urashima clan. Sakura, seeing Motoko's confusion, answered, "It is the birthright of the Urashima Clan. It was cursed for seven generations, but Haruka had it purified by your sister. She told me that if ever it was needed that I should take it to you. She also told me to tell you this. Motoko, in your hands is the sword forged in battle, damned by hate, and now saved by love. I know that you vowed never again to hold a sword, but I ask you to wield this blade and fight once more. Not for honor, not for forgiveness, but to protect those you love so that they may never know suffering that we had to endure."

Motoko stood in silence. She did not know what had moved her more, Haruka's final words to her or the ancestral blade that she held. She had heard of the Cursed Blade of Hina as a child, but never believed she would hold it in her hands. It had nearly destroyed Kyoto, and with it her clan. But now, she felt only good emanating from the sword – the need to protect its family.

Motoko drew the sword from the sheath and for a moment, it seemed as if the room filled with an incredible light. Motoko had never seen such a blade before. There was no scratch or mark on its finish. She saw no impurities or blemish. The weight was perfectly balance. The curvature of the blade revealed no flaw.

It was impossible for a hand crafted blade to be so symmetrical, and yet, the Hina blade was before her, in all its impossible perfection. Motoko was also surprised that she felt no weakness in her right arm, only strength returning to her, as if her injury had never been. "How can this be," the rational part of her mind demanded to know. "Love you fool," her soul responded. "Thank you Haruka," she prayed, hoping that her mentor could hear her.

"Thank you for this gift," Motoko beamed, taking Sakura into a warm embrace. "For you and Haruka, I'll protect them all," she declared. "I know you will Motoko," said Haruka, moved by Motoko's conviction. And with that, Motoko dashed off into the hallway, towards the sound of battle.

Kanako felt her life ebbing away. Her ribs were crushed, making every breath an excruciating exercise in pain. Her left eye had swollen shut, and the other was tearing up blood. Her right arm had been nearly severed in half, only skin and few patches of muscles kept it attached.

Kanako had tried to distance herself from Seta after he had wretched the kodachi from her hand. She pulled out her firearm and shot at him, but Seta kept closing the gap faster than she could fire. Once she ran out of bullets and grenades, Kanako tried close quarter combat, hoping her smaller size would give her an advantage in agility, but Seta simply adapted to her techniques.

After a few minutes, Kanako was exhausted though relatively uninjured. Seta, seeing her pitiful state, frowned. "Is that all you got little mouse," he snorted, the anger manifesting. Kanako, infuriated by his smugness, charged again, this time recklessly. Seta, side stepping the attack, sent a devastating punch into Kanako's right elbow, nearly ripping it off. Kanako howled in pain, but it was cut short when Seta rammed his knee into her midsection.

"Pace yourself," Seta spoke to himself, "you don't want to kill the little mouse just yet. She hasn't suffered enough." Kanako collapsed onto the floor, the pain resonating throughout her broken body. Desperation gripped her fevered mind. "I don't want to die," she whimpered. She began to crawl away from him, weeping, begging for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, her swollen tongue and missing teeth garbling her words. Seta responded by stomping his foot on her ankle, pulverizing the bone. "Begging already," Seta scowled, sickened by her display, "Don't beg, it'll ruined the moment."

Seta then raised his foot for another stomp when he sensed a familiar presence behind him. He leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the slash of Motoko's blade. Surprised by the speed and force of her attack, Seta landed in his ready position, arms raised in defense. Motoko, her blade already back in its sheath, stood between Seta and Kanako, her gaze never leaving her opponent. "You will not touch my sister-in-law again," she declared, her voice booming with conviction. Seta could only chuckle, "Why it's Motoko, what are you doing up on the roof? Didn't you just have a baby?" Motoko furrowed her brow in response to his heckling. Her pride demanded action, but logic had won out. She knew that even if he was weaponless, Seta was not a man you attacked head on, not if you wanted to live. "I'll guess I'll have to kill you to," he shrugged.

As Keitaro burst through the door to the roof, he was shocked to see Motoko standing on the rooftop – alone. He ran to her, tears in his eyes. Motoko, sensing a familiar presence, spun around and saw Keitaro running towards her. She leapt into his arms, embracing him with all her might. Their lips met, engulfing one another in a passionate kiss.

"Oh God, I thought you were hurt," Keitaro wept out, relieved that his wife was okay. Motoko could only reply, "I'm fine, and so is our son." Keitaro responded by strengthening his embrace, wanting to feel more of his wife's wondrous body. They stood there, enmeshed. Motoko wanted time to stop so that she could be with him like this forever. He felt so warm, his arms so strong. She had suffered this night, much of it due to his infidelity, but being with him again cast all anger from her. She had him back – as if blessed for a second time – she had him back.

But there wasn't time for such things. He had to know about Kanako and Haruka. Steeling herself for the inevitable backlash, still in his arm, she whispered into his ear the tragic news of his aunt's passing.

Keitaro, his eyes quivering in pain, wheeled back from the news.

"It can't be," he stammered, trying to keep his composure, "tell me you're joking." Motoko could only look at him with sorrowful eyes as she continued, "We think Su is also dead, murdered by the same person who killed Haruka." Keitaro's body froze, paralyzed by fury. Someone had dared hurt the ones he loved.

"Who," Keitaro shouted, grabbing Motoko by the shoulders. When Motoko grew hesitant, Keitaro shook her violently. "Dammit Motoko, tell me who," he shouted. Motoko, looking away from his sweltering gaze, whispered, "Kanako."

Motoko could hear his heart breaking. "You're lying!" he shrieked, boring claw marks into her shoulders. Motoko's winced at first, but quickly her expression turned hard as she peered into the maelstrom of his eyes. "I saw you with her," she flatly replied, breaking his resolve like shattered glass.

Keitaro felt his gut wrench. Motoko stepped forward, her shoulders squared. "Kanako had you and Naru filmed so that I could watch. She intended me to commit suicide afterwards. I would have if it weren't for Sakura," she stated calmly. After a moment had passed, Keitaro doubled over and began to dry heave. He hadn't eaten anything in nearly a day, so there was nothing left but stomach fluid to vomit, which he did.

Motoko bent down and placed a gentle hand on his neck. Suddenly, Keitaro felt an indescribable pain shoot out from where Motoko's hand was. His body went rigid, the agony traveling the length of his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, still unaffected by the pain, he remembered a moment from his days as manager of the Hinata Springs.

"So Motoko, do you know any of those cool pressure points, like you see in those kung fu movies," he gingerly asked, holding out a cup of tea for her. Motoko, her eyes closed, replied with a snide comment, "Such things are unworthy of a true warrior like myself, Urashima." Keitaro, disappointed that he wasn't making any headway with the obstinate samurai girl, failed to notice the tea tipping over, splashing its contents over Motoko's once immaculate gi. Motoko's left eye began to twitch, as the hot liquid bled into her clothes. With lightening speed, her hand gripped the back of Keitaro's neck. Confused by her action, Keitaro could only reply, "huh," before he was interrupted. "We call this the path to truth technique; it is used by my clansmen for purposes of interrogation," Motoko said coolly, before applying pressure to two points along his vertebra. The pain exploded in his brain for a second, before Motoko released him. "Christ, what was that," Keitaro wheezed, rubbing the back of his neck. "A warning Urashima," Motoko replied.

A minute later, the pain subsided, replaced with the warmth of his wife's embrace. "I'm so sorry Motoko," he coughed out, still wheeling from the pain. Motoko, her head buried in his chest, the tears bleeding through his shirt, replied, "You came back to me, that's all I care about." Lifting her head so that she could see his eyes, she added, "but if you ever put me through that again, I'll end you." Keitaro, somewhat relieved, could only kiss his wife in response.

A shrill, high pitch shriek rampaged through their ears. "Kanako," Keitaro gasped, trying to fight off the panic gripping his soul. Motoko, seeing the dread in her husband's expression, stood and reached for her blade. Keitaro was already gone, racing towards his sister. Motoko gave chase, dashing over the rooftops of the various buildings adjoining the hospital.

Her keen eyes spied a tall figure in the distance. It was Seta. "What is he doing here?" she wondered, not knowing of Sarah's terrible fate. As they drew closer to their quarry, husband and wife saw a terrible sight. The people, whom they loved both deeply, were engaged in combat. No, more aptly put, their friend and mentor was savagely beating a member of their family. Keitaro yelled Seta to stop, but his voice was unheard or unheeded. Motoko, the faster of the two, ran ahead, charging Seta's position.

The years of inactivity felt like weights on her limbs, but the sword gave her strength. The old memories of form and technique slowly came back to her muscles, propelled by the energy flowing through her from the Hina blade. She launched her attack, using her left leg to boost her speed, drawing her sword, using the sheath as a counterforce to propel the blade forward. The end result was a quick draw of such blazing swiftness that the human eye could not track its movements.

Seta dodged it with relative ease.

"Damn," Motoko cursed, hoping that her first attack would end the potential for bloodshed. Keitaro rushed to his sister. What he saw almost devastated him. Her body laid broken, blood spilling onto the floor. Her limbs were misshapen, discolored; he saw bone protruding from her right arm. She was mangled, her cheeks, swollen, pale, spotted with blood. "Kanako," he cried out, hoping that she was still alive. "Get her out of here," Motoko shouted. Keitaro looked up and saw his wife. She stood with her back towards him, facing down Seta, but he was no longer the man that he knew.

He reeked with hate. So potent was his desire to kill that it caused the air to distort around him. Seta was festering with terrible intent. Keitaro yelled, "Why do this Seta?" Motoko interjected, "It's too late for reason Keitaro. He's too far gone. Take Kanako to safety, I'll hold him off as long as I can."

Keitaro felt his insides shred to pieces. He wanted to rescue his sister, but he did not want to leave his wife. Why was this happening? Why was he forced to make such a decision? Had they not suffered enough? "Why God?" he desperately pleaded, hoping for some miracle.

"Please Keitaro, let me protect you and the ones you cherish," Motoko pleaded, cutting through to him. He read her emotions, the yearning in her soul. The bond their shared ran deep, deep enough that he could feel her intent. "I cherish you most of all," Keitaro replied, picking up his sister.

He ran, leaving Motoko, but never in her heart. The lone tear that trickled down her cheek spoke of a commitment that defied their odds. "I love you Keitaro," she whispered, gripping her sword tighter.

"How touching? What a magnificent display of matrimonial bliss and fortitude, but it's wasted on that girl," Seta called out, pulling up his sleeves. Motoko yelled back, "Why Seta, Why do this to Kanako? Are you taking revenge for Haruka?" Seta looked puzzled at her response. "Haruka?" he replied, "Don't tell me she killed her too, my, she was a busy little beaver."

Motoko felt a terrible cramp in her belly. What did he meant by "too?" Did he care enough about Su to wage such a terrible battle? No, the only person who could elicit such vengeance, other than Haruka would be…

The realization hit her with force of a hurricane. "No," she uttered. Seta caught this, and laughed. "So you just figured it out," he chuckled, "well, no matter, she still dies and so will you if you get in my way."

Preparing for his attack, Motoko drew her blade and held it in a defensive posture. She yelled out, "Kanako will face justice but not by your hands Seta. Please withdraw." He only smiled and then disappeared.

"What?" Motoko gasped. "A bit slow aren't we?" Seta breathed into her ear. "How could he be so fast," she thought, slashing towards the direction of his speech. A second later, her eyes caught up to her blade and saw nothing. "I'm over here," Seta whispered again, this time from the other direction. Motoko, without hesitation, took her sheathe and thrust it behind her, at right angle to the source of the sound. From the resistance, she knew that she had made contact.

Seta's eyes widened in surprise as he was hurled through the air, propelled by the force of her attack. He landed hard, skidding a few feet, before coming to rest against a ventilation shaft. Analyzing her attack, he figured out that Motoko had decreased her response time, thus catching him off guard, by using the twist of her body to fuel the attack, rather than the long arc of a sword swing. What amazed him was the precision of the attack. Only a truly gifted warrior would be able to make the calculations needed in guessing the movements of an opponent who possessed superior speed in the heat of battle.

Getting up, Seta dusted off his pants and wiped the blood seeping from the cut above his right eye. "Nice one Part-timer's wife, but that just mean I won't go easy on you next time around," he said, before disappearing again. Motoko was hit before she could react. She held her blade forward, parallel to the ground. It afforded the swordsman maximum defensive positioning at the cost of reducing their offensive capability. It did little to stop Seta. Motoko flew back, crashing into a glass arboretum that the nursing staff had built for their afternoon breaks.

Keitaro could hear the battle ensue after he left, but he fought to pay attention to the life slipping away before his eyes. He ran towards the door that led to the staircase, when Sakura popped out.

At first, she was overjoyed that she had found Keitaro. It was only by chance that she found Naru, who was in search of Shinobu. Dragging the resistant Naru by the hand, Sakura brought Naru to the room where she had kept Motoko's baby. "Please Naru, I know that Keitaro and Motoko are in danger now, but I can't leave the baby unprotected. Please watch over him, while I go help them," she pleaded.

Naru could only stare at the fragile life that lay before her. In the artificial womb was the life that Keitaro and Motoko had created, a life she was denied to share with the man she loved. For a moment, Naru felt conflicted. She wanted so much to hate the child, but seeing it there, so helpless and vulnerable, Naru had no other recourse. "Of course, I'll look after him, please save Keitaro," she replied, her eyes never leaving the baby.

"Thank you," said Sakura as she bowed and then was gone.

On the rooftop, Keitaro had laid his sister on the floor, hoping that Sakura could help her. "Please help her" he pleaded. Sakura cringed at the sight of Kanako's broken body. Before she could approach, Kanako awoke, her one good eye fixated on her brother.

"Is that you Keitaro?" she asked weakly, not believing the fantasy. "Yes," he replied, cradling her in his arms, "it's your big brother." Kanako's face was filled with joy, but it was soon replaced with regret. "Please don't look at me like this," she begged, turning away. Keitaro held her closer until his cheek lay next to hers, he replied, "I will never look away from my beautiful sister."

She began to weep, wishing that she could live just a little longer for him, but she felt death lingering, bidding his time. "I'm sorry Keitaro for the things that I've done," she wheezed, her breathing more labored, "I've done terrible, unforgivable things."

Kanako wanted to say more, but was cut short. She felt something pressing against her lips. It was warm, a bit salty, but there was something else that she felt – something wondrous. She opened her eyes and saw that her brother was kissing her.

Happiness is a word that could not begin to describe her feelings, but that was soon eclipsed by the horrendous guilt that began to consume her. She didn't deserve to be so happy. She had murdered her friends, tricked her brother into infidelity, and countless other sins.

She broke off the kiss and struggled to find the words to convey her contrition, but Keitaro just placed a finger on her lips. "Whatever you did, it doesn't matter. I forgive you. I forgive you because you're my sister and I love you. There's nothing that you could do to turn me against you. Nothing, please believe in that my lovely sister," he wept, desperately trying to comfort her restive soul.

She smiled, before fading to black. "Kanako," Keitaro screamed, begging God not to take her. Sakura, rushing to his side, ordered, "Place her on the ground so I can treat her." Trying to fight his own pain, Keitaro did what he was told. Sakura hovered above Kanako, feeling her vitals, and dressing the wounds as best she could without supplies.

She hadn't notice Keitaro moving away, walking towards the distant sound of battle. "Please take care of her," he called out, forcing Sakura to turn around. What she saw drove fear straight into her heart.

She saw the dragon stirring in Keitaro – the bloodlust of the Urashima Clan emerging. "Oh god no," Sakura shrieked, "Come back Keitaro!" But it was too late. He was gone. Sakura felt a hand on her knee. She looked down and saw the anxiety in her eye. "Is it too late to save him," she stuttered, fearing that Sakura had indeed seen the dragon. "I don't know," Sakura replied, praying that she was wrong.

Motoko felt the sword pulsating with power. She was weak, her body not responding to her commands. She was sure her left arm was broken, along with two of her ribs. She could stand, but hardly. Her breathing was nothing more than short gasps of breath. The blood loss was beginning to affect her mind. Everything seemed to blur together, but the sword was hungry for more. To her astonishment, it began to change color, reacting the presence of power.

Seta took notice of this and commented, "So he's awakening the dragon is he." Motoko was confused at first, but her confusion was soon replaced with terror. She felt something powerful drawing near, a swirling mass of energy that flared with such intensity that it nearly overpowered her.

And yet it felt familiar, as if it could be…

"Keitaro!" she gasped, looking away from Seta to the source of the disturbance, and before her stood the dragon. Its wings blotted out the stars. Its eyes set ablaze the earth. Its breath brought with it death.

Motoko stood terrified at what she saw. She could feel the air, thick with its presence, condensing around her, smothering her. She wanted to run away and hide in the deep places of the earth, far from the gaze of the monster.

But there was Keitaro, in the middle of the maelstrom of the dragon. "I don't understand," Motoko cried out. Walking past her, Seta replied, "A long time ago, a fierce dragon wreaked havoc on Japan. The Urashima Clan rose up and fought the monster until only one was left. He slayed the beast, but not before it could taint his blood with its mark. Since that day, the Urashima bloodline carried with it the dragon's spirit. Every once in awhile, it would awaken, killing and rampaging before another Urashima could bring it down. We always thought it was Haruka who had the dragon, not Keitaro, but I guess we were wrong."

Motoko could not believe what she was being told. Dragons were mythical creatures, they weren't real, but then again, she was raised to be a demon slayer. Though she had never seen one, it was a matter of law in her clan. The dark things that walked in daylight was real and to be exterminated. That was the way of her clan.

"What do we do?" Motoko called out, hoping that Seta had an answer. He paused for a moment and turned towards the distraught wife. "We die Motoko," he quipped, before proceeding in the direction of the dragon.

The two men walked towards each other. The dragon, his power manifesting in a swirls of blue lightening, ripped asunder the concrete as he walked. Seta, pouring forth his formidable chi energy, ignited the air, causing brilliant red flame to encompass him.

Motoko could see the two energies collide, creating a vortex of indescribable power, threatening to flatten the landscape. She sough shelter behind a concrete box that housed the ventilation shaft for the hospital. Peering around the side, she saw them stop with only a few feet separating the two.

"She killed Sarah," said Seta, calmly removing his glasses and placing them into his shirt pocket. Keitaro made no response. "So I see, that's how it will be," Seta sighed. Keitaro growled in response, affirming his former mentor. Seta cried out as he began his attack.

A deafening roar that pierced the heavens erupted from Keitaro's mouth, striking Seta with a force beyond reckoning. He was flung back, his clothes left in tatters, blood oozing from the dozens of cuts and burns scattered throughout his exposed body.

"Damn," he cursed, "that hurt." Motoko could not believe that Keitaro, the kindest man she knew, could be capable of such ferocity. She screamed, "Stop Keitaro, you're going to kill him!" But her words had no affect. The dragon would not be denied his prey.

The dragon was awake and it hungered for blood.

The dragon leapt into the air, spreading its monstrous wings, blanketing the earth with its shadow. It felt the fear in his prey and was pleased by it. It climbed further into the heavens, until it reached the apex of its ascent. It the turned its monstrous body towards the earth, and came streaking down.

The dragon was soon to pounce. Faster it went, dive bombing towards its target. Seta recognized that Keitaro was coming in too fast to dodge the attack. The force, he reckoned, would be enough to vaporize him, the hospital, and perhaps the surrounding community.

"I'm sorry Sarah, Poppa couldn't get you justice," he lamented, closing his eyes to the inevitable. Motoko wanted to run and stop Keitaro, but he was too fast. She didn't have the time to react. All she could do was scream, "STOP KEITARO!"

Too late for the dragon had struck. A blinding light encompassed the rooftop, the blast destroying much of the roof.

A death shriek filled the air, causing Motoko to cover her ears in pain. It was the second sound that opened her eyes, someone was wailing. She could feel the pain in his tortured cries. "Keitaro?" she stuttered as she looked towards the spot where Seta had been.

There, a few feet from Seta, was Keitaro cradling Kanako in his arms. Just before Keitaro could strike, Kanako appeared, placing herself in front of Seta. Before Seta realized what was happening, Kanako turned her head so that her one good eye could see him. She whispered, "I'm sorry," before plunging her broken kodachi into her chest.

As the pain erupted from her wound, Kanako was brought back to the time she learned of this technique. "Remember Kanako, this technique is only to be used when there are no other options left," Granny Hina commanded her young disciple. "Hai," Kanako replied.

Pleased with her grand-daughter's commitment and discipline, the matriarch of the clan made the decision to teach her the most powerful and forbidden technique of the Urashima School of Martial Arts – the blossoming chrysanthemum strike. "As you know Kanako, we draw our power from our ki, but there is also the possibility of drawing even greater power from nature. Unfortunately, the only way of drawing this power is to sacrifice your life in the process. Only death can unlock the body's ultimate limit. By doing so, the warrior may be able to harness the sudden release of his or her life energy and merge it with the natural energy that surrounds us, creating a devastating force that could destroy entire cities," Hina professed. She continued, "This technique must only be used when fighting the dragon, for only the dragon can absorb the amount of energy released from the blast, otherwise, everything around you will perish for miles on end. Do you understand?"

"Hai," Kanako replied.

The dragon did not know why this girl stood in his way, nor did it care. She would die as well. But fear gripped the dragon's heart as it recognized her stance. It had seen it dozens of times before, the technique wielded by past members of the Urashima Clan. "Impossible," it roared. Kanako smiled, "I'm going to save you big brother." With the last of her strength, she chanted the words that released the Blossoming Chrysanthemum technique.

The dragon was pierced by the energy bolt emanating from Kanako's own beating heart – the last gesture of love from the dying girl. It howled in rage at its demise. Keitaro awoke, only to see his sister, lying on the ground with a sword stuck in her chest. "Oh god," he cried, crawling towards her. "Please Kanako, wake up," he shouted, jostling her smoldering body.

Kanako's eye fluttered open. She smiled at him with a calm expression, the blood still present. "It's okay," she wheezed, fighting to live just a little longer to assuage his guilt. "I didn't do this for you Keitaro, I did it for me. You keep saving me, even after all the terrible things I've done, so just this once, I wanted to be the one who saves you." Bitter tears began to rain down on her. Knowing that his sister was dying, Keitaro gripped her hand and pressed it against his lips before placing it next to his cheek. "You did save me Kanako. Thank you," he cried, praying for a little more time.

"I love you big brother," uttered Kanako, as the last of her breath left her. She was gone. Keitaro, feeling overwhelmed with sadness, sobbed, "I love you too Kanako," and then raising his voice to the heavens, shouted, "But why did you have to die?"

"Keitaro," uttered Motoko, gripping her chest. She could feel his pain as he screamed into the night, his voice carrying to the far reaches of the city. Seta could only watch on as he saw his former pupil weep over the body of his daughter's murder.

He wanted to keep his rage, but he felt it dissolving, leaving behind the intense despair and loss he felt in his soul. He wanted to lose himself to the fury that had nearly killed Kanako – to end the hurt. But Keitaro's suffering had reawakened the compassion that had made him a beloved father.

"I'm sorry Sarah," he sobbed, allowing himself to weep for the loss of his daughter. Motoko saw this and felt relieved. "Is it over?" she wondered, finding it difficult to believe that the nightmare had ended.

Kanako, the source of all their recent pain, was dead. Seta's rage had been contained and subdued. Motoko could see no enemies or threats in the horizon. She walked over to the still weeping Keitaro, and gently wrapped her arms around him.

Kanako had murdered her mentor and friends, but because of Keitaro's heart, she would hold nothing back. She embraced them both, shedding tears of loss and pain. She whispered into his ears soothing words and promised him that she would never leave him. Keitaro, taking one of his hands, intertwined his fingers with his wife's, his other hand, still holding his departed sister.

Time had passed, but neither knew by how much. Motoko was the first to rise. She walked over to Seta to tend his wounds. The dragon's power had left its mark. He was bleeding from several large gashes; patches of his skin were burned to char. "I'll be fine Motoko," Seta sighed, trying to abate the worried mother's expression. "Nonsense," Motoko replied, her maternal instincts coming to force, "you are in need of immediate medical attention."

After gently laying her sister's body on the floor, crossing her arms across her chest, Keitaro rose to his feet. He looked over the ruined rooftop and was amazed at the destruction that had been caused by their battle. Calm was washing over him, as the last of his tears was shed. His eyes settled on the visage of his wife, tending the wounds of his friend. Feeling an urge rise in him, he called out, "I love you my wife."

Motoko turned around and smiled at her husband. She yelled back, "I love you my husband." The dark clouds were lifting. Keitaro knew that they would need time to heal from the day's events, but there was so much love amongst them that he had no doubt that they would find happiness again.

Keitaro was happy. He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the heavens, thanking God for his wife and child. Motoko was about to walk over to him, when she heard the gun shot. She had never heard such a terrible sound, as it shattered the peace that had settled in the aftermath of their battle with Seta.

Keitaro felt his breath stolen. There was a sharp pain in his chest, followed by the sensation of falling. Instinctively, his hand gripped the place where the sharp pain had been, which was now replaced by a dull ache. He could feel something warm and slick covering his fingers – a familiar sensation. Keitaro looked down and saw the blood gushing from a hole in his chest.

Motoko screamed, her heart nearly breaking as her husband looked up. Their eyes locked. She could see the shock in his face, the wretched pallor returning to his cheeks. With blinding speed, she ran to him, catching him as he fell.

"Why God?" Motoko screamed, demanding to know what terrible sin that they had committed to deserve so much pain. Keitaro trembled; his breathing was labored, short, and ragged. The blood began bubbling through his mouth, lacing his teeth and lips in crimson. Motoko placed her hand over his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. Her motions became erratic, her voice strained by emotions.

"Don't leave me Keitaro," she cried out. Seta watched from afar, still in shock from what had just transpired. But his warrior instinct kicked in and his eyes began darting to and fro, looking for the culprit. It took him a moment to find the source of the gun fire.

She had made no effort to hide her crime. She stood there in the open, holding the gun in her hand, still smoking from the barrel. "Kitsune," Seta roared as he struggled to get up. The silver haired woman remained unresponsive, continuing to watch the desperate prayers of a woman losing her love.

Sakura was not endowed with natural ability or gifted in the martial arts like Keitaro and Motoko. She could not leap tens of feet in a single jump. She was forced to climb down the stairs, exit one building to get to another building, before climbing back up the stairs of where the battle was taking place.

By the time she had reached them, it was already over. Kanako was dead, and Motoko and Keitaro were seemingly all right. The battle had ended. She was relieved. "I guess it's over," she sighed with relief. It was then she noticed Kitsune climbing onto the roof through the fire escape.

"Huh, what is she doing here," Sakura wondered. She was about to call out to her friend, when something peculiar happened. Kitsune had taken out a gun that she had hidden in her shirt. "What is she doing?" Sakura asked herself, not realizing until it was too late. Kitsune had fired her gun, hitting Keitaro in the chest.

Sakura felt her throat dry up, her body shaking. What had she done? Why would she want to kill him? Questions began racing through her mind, but her training took hold. Sakura pulled out her pistol the same way that Haruka had taught her. "Line up the sights, breathe in, hold your breath, then squeeze the trigger," said Haruka as she stood behind her pupil. Sakura, lining up her sights, holding her breath, and squeezing the trigger, felt the force of the discharge as the bullet rifled through the air and into the center target 20 yards away. "Good job," the Urashima tigress declared, pleasing Sakura greatly.

She had trained in the use of firearms for the past two years. In that time, Haruka's lessons had become a reflex action. The moment she spied Kitsune raising her gun again, Sakura pulled the trigger.

Kitsune felt the bullet impacting the side of her neck, lodging itself into the vertebra. The jugular had been severed, causing the blood to spurt from the wound. In seconds, Kitsune was on the ground, her body twitching.

Sakura rushed to her, kicking away the gun as she had been trained to, her weapon still fixed on Kitsune. "Why?" she asked. Kitsune, her jaw reflexively contracting, trying to force air down the obliterated windpipe, looked up in response. There would be no answer from her, only the sight of pupils dilating.

Sakura dropped her gun, struggling to process what had just happened. It was the sound of someone crying that had snapped her back into reality. Sakura broke into sobbing fits when she saw Motoko, cradling the head of her husband, his eyes casting no doubt that he was gone. The sound of absolute misery echoed throughout the city as Motoko wailed on, long into the night.

To be continued….

The ending is going to be SHOCKING!!!


	19. Chapter 28

Chapter 28:

Keitaro felt a cool breeze sweep across his face. He touched his chest, but was surprised to find no wound, the memory of his death still vivid in his mind. He sat up and gasped at what he was seeing. Lying before him was a field of chrysanthemums, majestic in its beauty and splendor. The bright colors of the perennial flowers ran far into the distance, beyond the reach of his eyes. He looked up and saw an endless blue sky.

"Is this heaven?" he wondered aloud. "Nope," a tiny voice squeaked from behind. Keitaro, surprised, spun around. There standing in front of him was a young girl, no older than five. "Hey mister," she giggled, "where's your clothes?" Keitaro confused at first, look down and saw his nakedness.

But there was no embarrassment or panic in his thoughts, only the realization that he was indeed naked. "I guess you're right," he replied, looking away, his eyes tracing the contours of the landscape.

"That's okay, we all come here naked, like the day we were born. All you have to do is think about clothes, and you'll be wearing them," said the young girl, settling down next to him.

The girl reminded him of a special suit that he had bought for his entrance ceremony to Tokyo University. He never got the chance to put it on.

Suddenly, Keitaro felt the cool, crisp feel of linen pressed against his skin. He looked down and saw the checkered red silk tie that his sister Kanako had picked out for him. Keitaro stood up and examined himself. He was surprised to see the navy blue jacket unsoiled by grass or dirt stains, his slacks and glossy black shoes being just as clean.

"Silly," the girl chuckled, "there's no real grass or dirt here. It's all in your imagination." Keitaro could only smile in response. "Of course," he thought, "I knew that too." Straightening his tie, he cleared his throat and asked the young girl if she wanted to dance as if he was a fine English gentleman.

The young girl nodded, and suddenly the lush fields of flowers gave way to a grand ballroom, the ornate chandelier hanging high above, raining down its light. Keitaro was surprised to see the little girl was no longer there. In her place was a woman of remarkable beauty, dressed in a Cinderella dress, with glass slippers and all. "I would love to dance with you Keitaro," she spoke, her accent slightly British.

Keitaro recovered from his initial shock, smiled and took her hand. The room filled with the sound of violins, followed by the piano accompaniment. He took her in his arms and led her around the room, their steps light and fast. Around they went in merriment, enjoying the music as it permeated their beings.

"You seem so familiar," said Keitaro, "may I ask you for your name?" The young girl parted her lips and kissed him on the cheeks. Keitaro blushed, but maintained his composure. "Is it a secret?" he teased. "Yes," she replied demurely.

Suddenly, Keitaro felt an incredible pain well up near his heart. He looked down and saw blood gushing from a bullet wound in his chest. He looked up and saw his wife, agony etched into her expression. He could hear her screaming, her voice cracking from the strain. He wanted to comfort her, but the words were lost in the blood filling his throat. He tried to move his arms, to hold her, but they were powerless.

He was unbearably cold, as if he had been plunged into the deepest part of the ocean. The young girl appeared above him, hovering over his wife. "What's happening?" he thought. "You're dying," she replied, her expression conveying no hint or remorse.

"It hurts."

"It always does."

"Will it end?"

"Yes"

"What's going to happen to Motoko?"

"She'll live."

"Will I see her again?"

Again, the world changed. Keitaro stood on the precipice of the abyss, devoid of all color, sensation, or form. But to his back, he saw a wondrous light that seemed to shine everywhere – a world without shadow.

"Hey kiddo, welcome to the end of things," Haruka called out. Keitaro turned to the voice of his aunt and smiled. In this world, he felt calm and relaxed. Hearing his dead aunt was not a surprising thing, especially since Keitaro knew that he was also dead.

"I guess that means the whole gang is here, well, the dead ones at least," he joked. "Yep," Su rang out, leaping onto his shoulders, did you miss me?" Taking her into his arms, he smiled back, "of course, where would I be without my Koalla Su?" Keitaro felt a hard slap against his shoulders. Looking back, he saw his friends Haitani and Shirai, smiling and having a good laugh. "Wow Kei, I can't believe you married Motoko. She's so hot," Haitani grinned. "What's up Keitaro, did you hear about me and your aunt?" Shirai chimed in.

"Hey, can't forget me in this little reunion," Sarah yelled out, pouncing on her beloved manager. "Never," Keitaro laughed, bouncing Sarah into the air, and then catching her as she fell.

Amalla stood next to Haruka and called out, "Nice seeing you again Keitaro." Keitaro rushed to her and planted a kiss on her lips. After holding it for a minute, he released, "I've wanted to do that for – years – apparently." Amalla, still dazed from the kiss, could only stutter, "anytime sugha."

Keitaro felt happy. He was with his friends again, seeing faces that he hadn't seen since his days back at the Hinata Sou. There was one face, however, he did not see. "Where's Kanako?" he asked Haruka.

The rest of the girls continued to gab, unaware of the darker things that had been brought to the world between life and death. Only Haruka could understand who Keitaro was talking about.

"She's not here," Haruka said hesitantly, not wanting to burden her nephew anymore. "Where is she Haruka?" Keitaro asked, feeling his heart grow heavier. Slowly, the chatter he heard began to fade, the images beginning to blur, until only Haruka remained visible.

"What's happening?" Keitaro questioned, perturbed by the loss of his friends. "You're heart is bringing you back to the precipice, away from those already on their way to wherever we go after death," Haruka answered. Keitaro spun around, his eyes scanning the surrounding territory. True enough, he stood only a few feet away from the edge of pure bright light, into a void that seemed to have no dimension.

Haruka, standing before the precipice, visibly shivered as she peered over the sides. "The abyss is looking for you Keitaro. It knows what you're after, you can't let it consume you," she whispered, trying to mask the fear in her voice.

"Is Kanako down there?" he asked, dreading the answer. She was nodding her head in silence. Taking her by the shoulders, Keitaro demanded to know how his sister ended up in the darkness that lay before them.

"She jumped," Haruka replied, her voice barely audible. "What do you mean she jumped?" Keitaro yelled out, tightening his grip. Haruka, with a rapid uppercut to his chin, sent Keitaro wheeling back. "Do not forget who I am Keitaro Urashima," Haruka belted out. Wiping the blood from his lips, Keitaro picked himself up. He then stared at his hand, examining the red blotches carefully. "Why am I bleeding?" he thought aloud.

Haruka could only reply with a pained impression. She walked up to Keitaro and gently took him into her arms. She informed that in this world, our emotions define the path we take. Those who can feel love and joy drift towards the light. Those who hung on to the pain and misery of life, drift towards the abyss. The blood you see and feel is the sadness you're keeping alive in this world. Please let go Keitaro, or you'll end up like your sister. Haruka was near tears at this point, her voice quivering with emotions.

A voice in Keitaro's mind told him that Haruka was in danger – her emotions threatening to entomb her in silent agony. Realizing the threat he was posing to his aunt, Keitaro closed his eyes and began meditating – a technique he learned from his wife.

Haruka could feel a warmth wash over her, evaporating her sadness. Su and Sarah were still playing tag around them, while Shirai stood behind her, his arms draped across her shoulders.

"What am I doing back here?" asked Haruka. "He sent you back here," Shirai replied, bringing her closer to him, "back to me." Haruka, taking comfort in the arms of her love, purred in response. "Thank you Keitaro," she whispered, before the light took them home.

Standing alone at the precipice, Keitaro watched as Haruka and Shirai faded into the distance, Su and Haitani following close behind. Sarah was the only one to remain. She walked over to Keitaro, growing older as she neared him. She stopped, inches away from him. Keitaro could not believe how much Sarah had changed. She stood only a few inches shorter than him, her head reaching the tip of his nose, her eyes, hidden behind her golden bangs.

"Keitaro," she spoke, "I never got a chance to say thank you for everything." Her words had been mixed with tears. Keitaro instinctively took her into a brotherly embrace and replied, "There's no thanks needed with family."

Sarah tightened her embrace. Talking into his chest, she spoke of how lonely she had felt before and that it was only when she lived with him and the others that she truly felt like she had a home to call her own.

She confessed, "I love you Keitaro." Keitaro was surprised to hear Sarah's admission. He had known of Sarah's crush since he discovered her web journal several months after he had awaken from his coma. But to hear her say the words was still unnerving.

What does a man say to a child confessing her love?

Apparently, nothing.

He did not have the chance. Sarah broke from his embrace and rushed him, tackling Keitaro to the ground. Catching him off guard, Sarah took the initiative and pressed her lips against his, pouring all her feelings into her kiss.

Keitaro could feel the sweet emotions, the passion of a young girl's dream, compressed into the sensation he felt across his mouth.

A moment later, Sarah was standing up, smiling – more like a devilish grin. "I just wish I had a chance to do that in life," she smirked, "but I have to go now Keitaro and you have someone to save." With a final wink, Sarah ran off towards the distant light, yelling out, "I love you Keitaro. Don't forget."

Keitaro could only watch in bemusement as the golden-haired girl hopped her away into eternity. "I love you to Sarah," Keitaro whispered. When she was gon, his mind returned to the task at hand.

The girl from before appeared next to him, dressed in a kimono. "I know who you are," Keitaro spoke, breaking the silence, "you're the dragon that Seta was talking about before I died. You were the one who gave me that incredible power." Suddenly, the girl had transformed into the dragon, but gone was the armored hide and leathery wings that had blocked out the stars.

The dragon that had appeared before him was covered in soft red fur, her wings replaced with arms, strong and firm. "Please tell me your story dragon?" Keitaro asked, placing his hand on her yellow mane.

"You know my story Keitaro," she replied, her serpentine body moving in rhythm to her words, "I have been with you since the beginning." A door opened in Keitaro's mind, freeing the memories that had been locked away.

He saw himself as a child, falling into a deep chasm, nearly dying. He laid there, his body broken. He could feel death taking hold of him, the cold seeping into his soul. He cried out for help, but no mortal answered, only the dragon. She appeared before him, curious to see who was making so much noise. He looked up and felt no fear. He asked the dragon, "Please devour me so that my parents will not have to see me like this."

The dragon replied, "Do you wish to die child?" The child began to cry. After a few minutes, he answered back, "No, but I do not wish to make my parents sad. They would cry if they saw me broken like I am."

The dragon only nodded. It opened its massive maw and roared, enveloping the child in its breath. The boy was not afraid for it trusted the dragon – a child's trust. But the boy was surprised that he was still alive. "Get up," the dragon commanded and the boy arose. He looked at his arms and legs and saw that they were healed. "Thank you," the boy squealed in delight.

The dragon smiled and replied, "Now go, boy, your family waits for you." The boy could only smile and laugh. He then ran up to the front leg of the dragon and embraced it. "We're family now," the boy chuckled, before dashing off to home.

Keitaro blinked. "Those are not my memories," he whispered. The dragon changed form again, but this time to a young woman, the same woman whom he had danced with in the ballroom.

"It is my memory of the time that I met your ancestor, the first of the Urashima bloodline," she replied, cradling her arms across her chest. "I went to visit him after that in the form of the child that you first encountered. I became his friend and decided to stay with him as a human. The years passed, and he grew to be a good man – the man I fell in love with. We were married and lived happily together. Those were good years Keitaro. We had many children and raised them all to be good people. It was a good life, but then he died."

As she spoke, Keitaro began to relive her memories. He saw her as a child, playing with his ancestor. They were always laughing and living adventures. She had once pushed him into a coy pond. She laughed when he resurfaced, spouting out a gold fish that he had nearly swallowed. As teenagers, she was discovering that the boy she knew was changing and so were her feelings for him. He was there when he first kissed her, under the falling leaves of the cherry blossom. Keitaro stood in the middle of their wedding procession, the sound of the ceremonial gong still ringing in the air. He bore witness to the birth of their first son. And on it went, a cascade of memories of a life lived centuries before he was even born.

Keitaro was amazed by it all. He was talking to the progenitor of his line, the first matriarch of one of the oldest clans in Japan. The young woman then looked away, her eyes glistening with tears. She continued, "I was so filled with misery and sadness at the loss of my husband that it grew into rage. I abandoned my human form and tried to hide away in the mountains, far from the provinces of men. But greedy kings heard that dragon blood held the secret to immortality, so they raised an army to kill me. I gladly fought them, killing every one of those soldiers. It was only after the battle had been fought and my rage spent did I find my youngest son amongst the slaughtered."

Keitaro could see the battlefield. On the mountain top, he could see the dragon, billowing fire from its nostrils. At the foot of the mountain, thousands of men, clad in armor and beating their chests with their weapons, stood in wait. He watched as the dragon descended upon them, unleashing torrents of flame and corrosive ash. In response, the army fired thousands of spears and arrows at the dragon, a blanket of death that was soaring through the sky. The dragon's armor, however, proved too thick and the projectiles shattered as they impacted her skin. The soldiers were not so fortunate. Though standing miles away, Keitaro could hear their screams as it reverberated throughout the mountain passages.

An hour later, the carnage was over and where there was once an army laid a field of the dead. He could hear the groans and wails of soldiers dying, the cawing of birds reveling in their abundant meals. He saw the dragon walking among the fallen, consuming the flesh of the wounded. The dragon, seeing her enemy defeated, roared in triumph. But then her eyes caught sight of a fallen solider, his hand clutching a piece of jewelry. The dragon approached it, focusing her eyes on the glinting metal until they went wide with panic. Transforming back into her human form, the woman ran, howling in pain.

The pendent that the man was holding belonged to her son, a keepsake created by her husband. It bore the ancient symbol of the dragon and the Urashima crest. "It binds us together," said her husband as he gave it to his son before they parted ways. Years had past since she last saw her child, the youngest of her brood.

He was a man of 22 years of age when he left them, wanting to travel and explore the great world beyond their village. At first, she was apprehensive, not wanting her son to leave, but it was her husband that had persuaded her to let go. "Boys need to grow into their own. All we can do is love them and let them go when the time comes, "her husband whispered, embracing her as she cried into his chest.

The body was disfigured, charred beyond recognition, but she knew that the dead soldier before her was her child. She had murdered her son. No sound had ever been made that could equal the howl of a dragon in mourning; she was heard throughout all the lands of Japan and the people could feel sadness seep into their hearts.

The young lady began to cry, her tears flowing unabated. Keitaro wanted to comfort her, but had no words that could relieve such grief. Talking through the tears, she went on, "He still wore the pendent that his father had made for him. I killed my son. I wanted to die, but how could I go see my husband in the after-world when I had the blood of his child on my hands. So to atone for my sin, I sacrificed my soul so he could live, but something went wrong. His darker impulses came to light and with my power; he wreaked terrible havoc on the people. In the end, I caused him to become a monster. His only son was forced to slay him to end the carnage."

The young woman fell to her knees and began to sob uncontrollably. Keitaro, sitting next to her with his feet dangling over the precipice, began to speak. "Now I know why I seem to be so invulnerable. It was you protecting me all those years, healing me after every accident. It was also you that gave me those incredible powers back when Shinobu nearly drown in the hot springs. Thank you lady, if it wasn't for you, she may not be alive today." The young woman looked up, her mouth gaping. She had just confessed to being the murderer of her child and still he thanked her. "Don't thank me Keitaro," she sobbed, "Seta was right, my power has been used to take the lives of so many innocents over the years. Can't you see that I'm just a monster." Surprising the young woman, Keitaro took her hand and held it in his own. He squeezed gently, looking into her eyes.

"When I was hurt, Motoko tried to kill herself. I was so angry with myself for putting her through all that suffering. When I heard about how Naru gave up on her dreams to go to Tokyo University, I began to hate myself even more for allowing it to happen. Shinobu, Haruka, Kanako, Su, Sarah, Seta, all of them suffered because of me. I wanted so much to be forgiven for hurting them, but looking into my wife's eyes, I saw a different path. I could spend a lifetime trying to atone, to suffer for my crimes, but if I did that, could I make others happy? I wanted to live so that I could make them happy again. I figure, if a person is willing to say that, to live to make people happy, and then whatever they have done, doesn't matter for the person they can become."

Keitaro stood up, wiping the dust from his hand. He continued, "Living with Motoko, I learned that when we hurt the ones we love, we become so convinced in our own wretchedness that we become blind to all other things. We become so consumed by this need to atone or be forgiven that we forget why we seek forgiveness in the first place, so we can live on with the ones we love. I think people just forget that they have to forgive themselves too. If Motoko could only forgive herself, she wouldn't be in so much pain. If Haruka had only forgiven herself, there would be no need to lie to the ones she loved, and Naru wouldn't have to abandon her dreams."

It was at this moment that Keitaro lifted the young girl from off the ground. He embraced her and said, "Turn around." The young girl did as she was told and there before her stood a little boy with a tall man, a man who resembled Keitaro in many ways, especially his affable smile.

The young woman began choking on her tears, her hands cupping her mouth. "Go to them," he whispered into her ears. "But how can I, after all I did," she whimpered back. Taking her hand again, he replied, "All you have to do is forgive yourself, Haruna." She spun around, in shock that Keitaro knew of her human name. Keitaro answered, "It's because your Kenji told me. He's been talking to me since we met at the meadow. He told me about how his mother was so consumed with grief that she couldn't hear them calling her home. Haruna, the only forgiveness you need is from yourself, so please, for them, let go of the pain that's keeping you from them."

Haruna felt a slight tug from her kimono sleeve. She looked down and could see her son, looking up at her with a smile that could soothe even the most savage of hearts. She bent down and lifted him up, smothering him in kisses. Koji, her husband, embraced the two from behind. Haruna wept, but this time, with tears of joy. Her hand joined with his and their lips met.

Keitaro smiled and walked away, happy that he could help family. But before he got too far, Keitaro felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned around and saw the boy, but he looked older, perhaps sixteen. "My name is Keitaro too," he spoke, "thank you for helping my mother find her way back home. Please, take this, it'll help you." The boy placed a small pendent in Keitaro's palm, before running back to his waiting parents. Keitaro smiled as they faded into the light. He then turned to the abyss and yelled out, "I'm coming for you Kanako!" There was only silence.

"Well, if you're not coming out, I guess I have to go in," he replied. Before the abyss had a chance to respond, Keitaro leapt over the precipice, and plummeted towards the nothingness.

Keitaro was surrounded by darkness. Though his mind recognized nothing in the pitch black, Keitaro could still feel the corrosion of his soul. He yelled out, but no sound could be heard. He thrashed his arms wildly, but nothing could be felt. He wanted to panic, but a voice told him to remain calm. Suddenly, he felt a warm sensation purifying his body, dissolving the tar that had seeped into his pores. Looking down, Keitaro saw the pendent give off an incandescent glow. He felt power back in his voice and cried out, "Kanako!"

His ears twitched as he caught a sound from the distance. Keitaro reached out his hand plunging it into the darkness, until he felt something warm. He reached out with his other hand and pulled it closer to him.

Suddenly, the darkness receded as the world filled with light once more. "How can they forgive me Keitaro," Kanako cried out, struggling to break free from his grip. Annoyed by the tantrum, Kanako flicked his finger at her nose, causing her to yelp. "Whyda do dat," she said, the nasal sound of her voice causing him to laugh.

"How can you still be so caught up in your misery?" he chided her, unaware that they were standing on top of the precipice, his pendent still in hand. "I killed them," she spat back, wanting so desperately to run from the light, but Keitaro maintained his grip on her. Keitaro, with force, pulled his sister towards him, causing her to slam into his chest. He enveloped her into his arms and whispered, "You silly girl, does any of that really matter here. Let's just go home Kanako."

Haruka walked up and smiled gently over them. "C'mon you guys, we've been waiting," she said, taking Kanako's hand. Kanako wanted to pull away, but Keitaro was there to nudge her forward. "There's nothing to worry about Kanako, there's no grudge on this side, only the one you bring with you," Haruka assured her. Su plopped on the young Urashima's shoulders and started playing with her face, stretching out her lips to create an exaggerated smile. "Let's play," Su exclaimed, giggling at how funny Kanako looked.

Kanako, so moved by their compassion, could only nod in agreement. "Another crisis averted," Keitaro declared, showing off his muscles to the laughing crowd gathering around them. "Oh look at the mighty Keitaro," Haitani laughed, "saving the souls of the departed." Haitani turned to his friend and companion to get some tag team action, when he was hit with the scene of a very nubile Haruka locked in a tender kiss with Shirai.

"Even when I'm dead, I can't seem to get a break," Haitani sighed. Amalla nudged him with her elbow and whispered something in his ears before walking away with a wink. Keitaro couldn't hear what she told him, but the blood flowing profusely from his friend's nose told him everything.

"Hey guys," Keitaro called out, "isn't it about time we leave?" Haruka, breaking from her kiss, replied, "We came back for Kanako, not for you Keitaro." Before Keitaro could respond, the pendent began to glow again. He could feel the pain in his chest reappear, the breath leaving him.

"Good bye Keitaro," Haruka shouted, waiving as she began to fade, along with the rest of her friends. Only Kanako remained. She sat down next to Keitaro, who had collapsed from the pain. "Thank you Keitaro, you saved me again," said Kanako as she gently massaged his scalp. "What's happening to me Kanako?" he gasped, struggling to force air into his shredded lungs.

"Haruna's last gift to you is a choice Keitaro. If you wish to return to the living world, just keeping holding onto the pendent, but if you wish to stay, all you have to do is let it go," Kanako replied, her eyes never leaving his gaze.

Keitaro's hand began to tremble. He wanted to stay. He had seen so much pain and misery in life and was glad to let it all go, but the thoughts of his wife and son fought to remain in his heart. Kanako just stood in silence, not wanting to interfere. She looked on as he struggled to come to terms with his decision.

Should he leave paradise for love?

"I don't want to leave Kanako, but I need to see her again," he gasped, gently clutching the pendent to his chest. "Paradise will be waiting for you Keitaro," Kanako smiled, "and so will I." The pain overwhelmed him.

He could feel the warmth leached from his flesh. A miserable sound roared in his ears. He could taste blood. Suddenly, Keitaro felt the world around him, the sensations of the cold air stinging his exposed, burnt flesh.

He could hear his wife wailing inconsolably, her hair covering his eyes. He was hurting, but the pain he was experiencing came from watching his wife mourn him. Keitaro never wanted to see such suffering, especially from the one he loved most in this life. He tried to touch her, but his arm refused to move. He screamed in his mind, "Move!" Through sheer will, Keitaro overcame the limitation of the flesh, and raised his arm, his hand landing gently on Motoko's shoulder.

Motoko felt the hand on her shoulder, but could not form the coherent thought needed to recognize what was happening. By chance, she had opened her eyes, and saw the dark luscious brown of his irises, staring back at her. There was life in those eyes. "Keitaro?" she gasped, daring not to hope for a miracle. "Wife," Keitaro managed to cough out, causing Motoko to scream out in joy. She embraced him, near throttling the little life that he had managed to hold onto.

Seta, shocked to see his friend survive, called out, "careful Motoko, he shouldn't be treated so roughly." Motoko, realizing what she was doing, gently placed him on the ground, pressing down on his wound. "I love you," she kept chanting, hoping to keep him alive.

"Sakura," Motoko screamed, "get help!" Sakura was overjoyed that Keitaro hadn't died. Without a second thought, she ran to get help, yelling out, "I need a doctor!" Keitaro wanted to sleep, his body so indescribably exhausted, but he could not tear his gaze away from the beautiful woman looking down on him.

She wasn't his promise girl, but it didn't matter. Motoko was the love of his life, the girl he was destined to be with, he knew that now. "I love you Motoko," he mouthed, too exhausted to speak. "I love you too, Keitaro," she replied, the tears washing away the blood on his face.

Keitaro awoke to the strange sounds of machines. His vision was blurry, but eventually he could make out shapes. He was reminded of the time that he had first awaked from his coma. Keitaro began to examine the room and noticed another bed lying next to his. He strained his eyes until his vision came to focus.

What he saw made him want to cry out in joy.

Shinobu was sitting on her bed, smiling at him. She wore a hospital gown that could not hide how beautifully she had developed since their days back at the Hinata Sou. "Hello Keitaro Sempai," Shinobu cried out, her eyes beginning to water. "Hello Shinobu," he replied, "I've missed you." Shinobu, unable to hold back any longer, leapt from her bed and ran to him. She flung her small frame on top of his and buried her head in his chest.

"I can't believe you're here," she said, her voice muffled by the blanket. Keitaro noticed Motoko standing at the doorway, a gentle smile lighting her face. Keitaro smiled back at her, before returning his attention back towards the young girl crying in his arms. He ruffled her hair. She started to tell him about her life after he had gone away, her troubles and her joys. Keitaro listened, his attention focused only on his friend. Shinobu was bearing her soul to the man she had loved since the day they had met on the riverbank.

"Do you remember that day Keitaro, the day we met," she asked him with bated breath. "Of course," Keitaro replied, "I was so scared that you thought I was one of those perverts for drawing a picture of you." Shinobu sat up and began rummaging through the bag that Naru had left behind before leaving for Japan. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. Keitaro, his curiosity piqued, asked, "Hey, what do you have there?" Shinobu, unable to face him from the embarrassment, handed over the paper to him. Keitaro, taking it, was surprised to see his drawing from that day, the image of a young Shinobu smiling. "You were crying," Keitaro reminisced but was interrupted by the soft flesh that he tasted on his lips. He was shocked to find Shinobu kissing him, but did not break from it. He wanted to let Shinobu have her moment. "Motoko would understand," he thought, imagining the blade swinging precariously close to his nether regions.

Shinobu broke from the kiss and ran off, yelling, "Thank you Keitaro." Keitaro could only blink in response, not knowing how to react. Moments later, Motoko appeared next to him, scaring Keitaro. "How did you," he tried to ask, but his wife was already upon him, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Keitaro, caught off guard, gladly accepted his wife's lips, and began kissing back, pouring his passion into it.

Motoko broke from the kiss, but did not run off. Instead, she looked him in the eyes and said, "I just wanted to remind you that you're married to me buster." Keitaro could only grin in response. "You shouldn't be jealous of Shinobu, though she did grow up to be a fine looking woman," he jested, tempting fate once again. Motoko poked him in his ribs, causing him to wince in pain. "Ow, hey, I got shot remember," he yelped. Motoko showed no remorse. "You deserved it," she said matter of factly, but proceeded to plant light kisses across his abdomen, soothing the pain. She eventually laid her head to rest on his chest, listening for his heart beat.

Keitaro felt the warmth emanating from her body and was comforted by it. "Keitaro," Motoko uttered, "do you know why she did it?" Keitaro stiffened at the question. He knew that Kitsune had shot him, nearly killing him, and she was killed for it. "I don't know why she did it, but it doesn't matter anymore. She's gone and we're still here. All I care about is living this life with you and our son, which reminds me, we should really give him a name," he replied.

"I already gave him a name," remarked Motoko, "his name is Jonathan." Keitaro recognized the name of the doctor who had saved the lives of his wife and son, the man killed by his sister. "Jonathan is a good name," said Keitaro, cuddling his wife. Motoko shifted her weight so that she could look into her husband's face, and asked, "What's going to happen to us now?" Keitaro could see the fear lingering in her eyes, the pain of losing so many friends had left its mark.

Though he did not remember what had happened after his death, Keitaro still clung onto the feeling that there was nothing to fear of the inevitable. It left him knowing that life should be lived to be happy with the ones you love. Without any trace of doubt or hesitation, he answered, "We live. We love, and we build the future together, Motoko, my beautiful wife."

Motoko's eyes began to water, but she held in her tears. She had already cried too much, her warrior sensibilities beginning to take root. Instead, she nestled her face back into the chest of her husband and breathed in his scent. He was real, not a dream. Keitaro had chosen her, even after he was given the chance to be with his promised girl.

She would live for him and their baby. She would love them, protect them, and yes, build a future for them so that they could live happily together.

A year later…

"There sure are a lot of steps," Keitaro whined, struggling to keep pace with his wife. "My, you are out of shape, perhaps we should put you on a strict training regiment," his wife quipped, carrying along their son in her arms.

Keitaro could only sigh as he held the Hina blade. After a few minutes, they had arrived at their destination. Motoko stood in the courtyard and felt lost in her nostalgia. She remembered the days spent on these grounds. In the far corner lay a barren stone where her father would often sit and watch his children play.

He had died long ago to disease – hardly a fitting end for one so skilled in combat, but that was life. Motoko wished that he and her mother could have lived just a little longer so that they could see their grandson, a boy who would grow up to be a man as a good and strong as his father.

Keitaro watched his wife. She had always been taller, but today, her height seemed regal. She wore a form fitting silk dress, the one he bought while in Shanghai visiting Sakura at her new tea house. It was red with green and white floral prints. He was amazed how stunning she looked.

"Motoko, is that you!" a voice called out. Keitaro and Motoko turned and found Tsuroko standing in front of the massive wooden gates that protected the grounds of the Aoyoma estate. Keitaro had never seen Motoko's sister before. She stood tall and proud in her traditional red and white garb, her luxurious ebony hair hung freely, shrouding her in its sheen.

Motoko approached her, carrying a gentle smile. "Hello sister, I came to apologize for making you worry, but as you can see, I am better now," said Motoko. Then raising her son into the air, Motoko asked, "Would you like to meet your nephew?" Tsuroko was near tears. Tsuroko had not dared hope to be reunited with her sister. She had blamed herself for Motoko's misery and anguish. For years, she wanted to go and find her, but fear kept her at bay. After all, how could a failed sister ever be forgiven?

But Motoko was standing before her, seemingly please to see her. Tears began emerging from both the sisters' eyes. "Of course," Tsuroko replied, trying to keep from sobbing. Motoko gently laid her son in Tsuroko's ever attentive arms. "He's so beautiful Motoko, what is his name?" Tsuroko cooed, playing with the mirthful child. Motoko replied, "Jonathan."

Keitaro decided to make his introductions. He approached them and bowed to his sister-in-law. "This is my husband, Keitaro," Motoko added, pleased that her sister seemed receptive to them.

Tsuroko gave an appraising glance to the man before her and saw only good in him. "So, you are the one who has caused us so much trouble," she gently chided him. Keitaro, blushing, replied with a nervous laugh, "Sorry for all the trouble Tsuroko, but I just want you to know that I'm happy to finally meet you. Motoko told me so many wonderful things about you."

Tsuroko was taken back by his words. Motoko could see the doubt in her eyes, the feeling of remorse bubbling up. She interjected, "It's true sister, I have told my husband that it was your love and guidance that saw me through the dark times."

"Come," uttered Tsuroko, unable to hold back her tears, "let us go inside and talk Motoko. I want to know everything." Motoko, crying as well, replied, "Yes, there's so much I want to tell you."

Hours later, Motoko found Keitaro battling several of the Shinmeiryu students. The powers that had only manifested during desperate times seemed to be under his control now. He dodged the powerful ki attacks from the senior students with a deftness that impressed Motoko, herself a prodigy in the martial arts world. One by one, Keitaro managed to tap the young disciples on their respective foreheads, ending their participation in the melee.

The only one left was a young girl no older than Motoko when she had first met her husband. "Her name is Haruna," spoke Tsuroko, appearing behind the sanguine Motoko. Keitaro could only grin at hearing of his opponent's name. Haruna had shown exceptional skills and had the potential to surpass Tsuroko's battle prowess one day. But on that day, it was Keitaro would be the better of the two.

Haruna launched a devastating wave of condensed ki, the signature technique of the Shinmeiryu school, at Keitaro. Instantly, Keitaro side-stepped the attack and launched his own. Haruna tried to evade, but the man was too fast. Before she could counter, Haruna felt the warm tip of his finger pressing against his forehead.

She slumped her shoulders and conceded the match as had been agreed upon before the fight. "Hey you!" she had called out to him when they first met an hour ago. Haruna was the senior student in her class. She was leading a warm up exercise when Keitaro stumbled upon them. At first, Haruna thought he was a thief and demanded him to confess to his supposed crime. It was only Tsuroko's timely intervention that prevented a massacre. "Why don't you train with them," she asked Keitaro, who had no desire to do such a thing.

It was Haruna's attitude that had changed his mind. "A male has no place in combat," she scoffed, looking at him with disdain. She reminded him of Motoko back at that age. "Sure," he replied, "why not?" It wasn't even a contest.

"I wish to apologize Mr. Urashima for my behavior earlier," Haruna mumbled, her voice brimming with anguish, "you truly are a gifted warrior." Keitaro, his hand already rubbing the back of his neck, began to laugh, "There's no need for that Haruna. You are quite talented. You remind me of my wife at your age. She too shared your sentiment of men. I can only hope that you will never meet a man who will prove you right." Haruna looked up and was pleasantly surprised to hear him be so noble about his victory. He had neither gloated nor mistreated her in anyway.

"I see that I might have another rival for your affection husband," Motoko commented from behind, noticing Haruna's slight blush. The young girl's face faulted, her mouth gaping. She sputtered, "Sensei, I assure that that is not the case."

"She's just teasing you," Keitaro explained, "Now if you excuse me Haruna, I believe my wife wants to discuss something with me." Haruna, overjoyed that she given a means of escaping her humiliation, quickly bowed and ran off.

"Is it time?" he asked.

"It is," she replied.

"Time for what," Tsuroko inquired, still holding young Jonathan in her arms. Motoko turned towards her sister. She looked different to Tsuroko. Gone was the gentle expression that she bore when they first had arrived, replaced by a stern, perhaps even grim look of determination.

Tsuroko could feel her heartbeat quicken. "Could it be?" she thought, but was interrupted by Keitaro, who was taking Jonathan from her. "Can't have him get in the way between sisters, now, can we?" he mused.

Before Tsuroko could react, Motoko lifted her sheathed sword and held it parallel to the ground, as it had been their custom since the founding of the school when presenting a challenge for honorable combat.

"I challenge you sister to a match of skills."

Tsuroko felt the happiness explode within her, her heart bathing in joy. She wanted so much for Motoko to come back to her as a warrior, but there was no time for tears or warm embraces. She was being challenged, and she would not disappoint her younger sister.

"Welcome home," Tsuroko grinned, accepting her challenge.

Keitaro and his son watched from a safe distance as the sisters engaged in battle, the clanging of swords echoing across the compound. He whispered to his son, "Look at how strong mommy is, someday, you'll be as strong as her."

Though engrossed in battle, Motoko's mind drifted into her past. She had committed terrible deeds and tormented herself for it. She would have died long ago if it were not for the man holding their child in the distance. How strange life has turned out for us she thought to herself.

For so long, she had sought an answer to her question. How could she obtain the forgiveness and atonement that she was searching for? It took the love of her husband for Motoko to realize the truth. The answer his love gave to her was simple.

Forgive yourself and then live to make those for whom you love happy.

Motoko had found her absolution.

The End.

Author: Well folks, I think I'm done with this story. I'll be adding an epilogue, but not for some time. I left some glaring gaps in the sub plots, but that was done intentionally. I was lazy, and plus, I like to leave some of the mystery in there. This story was an exploration of complex human emotions. Some said that the body count was too high, some said it was too low. To me, those were incidentals. I just wanted to explore this thing we call forgivness. How does it motivate us, how does it guide our decisions. Well enough of the introspective crap. I hope you enjoyed reading this story and thank you again for your reviews. I found them quite enjoyable as an artist/writer.


	20. A thought

A thought:.

Rember back in English literature, we all had to read Paradise Lost and talk about the symbolism and imagery of the story. Well, I'd like to do that with my story.

When I first started this story, I wanted to explore the emotional context of forgiveness, atonement, and salvation. Yes folks, for those of you who didn't get it, this story was my way of exploring the "Passion of the Christ." Now, I'm not a religious man, but the crucifixion story always bugged me.

In the bible, Jesus seems conflicted. He prays at the garden of Gethsemane for guidance. He asks God, "Why have you forsaken me?" But he's the son of God, why does he need guidance? Why does he doubt?

Also, why did Judas sell out Jesus? Why did he kill himself later? Why did Peter deny him three times?

If you're uncomfortable with biblical reference, think of the Godfather trilogy. Why did Fredo sell out his own brother? Why did Michael give up on his dream of leaving the family business? Why did the don cry when he found out about Michael's crime? Why did Kay stay?

Do you see what I'm getting at? There is an emotional dynamic that is played out in these stories. Absolution was my way of delving deep into that mentality, because – well, frankly – I seem to be devoid of these sentiments.

I also like to explore concepts through imagery, such as my use of the dragon – the rise and fall of the brightest star in heaven. Yes, the devil and in my story, she gets a reprieve.

Does the happy ending seem out of place? Not in this context, but then again, maybe it is. Were we really better off after Jesus ascended the throne? Was Michael really helping his family by becoming the next Godfather? What were the trade offs. Michael saved his father, but was forced to kill his brother and saw his only daughter die before him.

So I guess I could have gone the tragic route, but I like to still believe in hope.

A consideration for next time.


End file.
